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FORTBLIZZARD 

MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL 


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BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 


By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL 

BETTY'S 
VIRGINIA  CHRISTMAS 

Four  illustrations  in  color  by  Henry  J.  Sovlen. 

Decoraiions  by  E.  S.  Hollov;ay.    12vio. 

Cloth,  decorated  in  green  and  gold, 

$1.60  net. 

CHICAGO  HERALD:  "The  sweetest  of 
sprightly  love  stories,  handled  as  Molly  Elliot 
Seawell  so  happily  handles  romance  of  this 
order.  Good  for  many  readers,  for  the  true 
southerner  a  genuine  '  Chris'mas  Gif '.' " 

THE  DIARY  OF  A  BEAUTY 

Twelve  illustrations  by  Frederick  Dorr  Steele. 
Handsomely  decorated  cover.    $1 .25  net. 

BALTIMORE  SUN:  '"The  diary  of  a 
Beauty'  is  a  straight-forward  love  story  of 
much  charm.  Its  manner  of  telling  is  through 
the  beautiful  young  heroine's  own  diary, 
which  tends  to  an  effective  simpUcity  and 
directness." 


ANITA  WALKED   DOWN   THE  STAIRS   AND   CAME   FACE   TO    FACE   WITH 
BROUSSARD   AND   MRS.    LAWRENCE 

Page  102 


iWlJL  OF.  CiilF.   LIBBA2Y,   LOS  AKGBLKS 


.###*#*****#**##*««.*******S 


BETTY 
AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 


By 

MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA  WELL 

AUTHOR  OF  " Betty's  Virginia  cHRisTMAa,"  "papa  bodchard,' 

"the  jugglers,"   "little  iAKVIS,"   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOR 
AND    FROM  PEN    DRAWINGS    BY 

EDMUND  FREDERICK 


PHILADELPHIA   &  LONDON 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

1916 


COPYRIGHT,    I916,   BY  JOHN  WANAMAKER 
BOOK    NEWS  MONTHLY 

Under  title  "Colonel  Fortescue's  Betty" 

COPYRIGHT,    I916,    BY  J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT  COMPAN? 


PUBLISHED  SEFTEMBKB,    1916 


PRINTED  BY  J.   B.    LIPPINCOTT  COMPANT 

AT  THE  ■WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,  V.  S.  A. 


To 

ELEANOR  T.  WOOD 

THE  GENTLE  LADY 

WHOSE  PATH  THROUGH  LIFE  IS  RADIANT 
WITH  GOOD  DEEDS 

THIS  BOOK  IS  INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR 


2138020 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAQK 

I.  "Miss  Betty"  in  a  New  Role 11 

II.  A  Pretty  Maid  and  a  Gamechick 37 

III.  The  Heart  of  a  Maid 65 

IV.  "  Good-bye,  Sweetheart,  Good-bye  " 92 

V.  Unforgettinq 107 

VI.  Some  Letters  and  Kettle's  Enlistment 128 

VII.  The  Pleading  Eyes  op  Women 158 

VIII.  Love,  the  Conqueror 191 

IX.  The  Reveille 208 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAQK 

IN  COLOR 

Anita  Walked  Down  the  Stairs  and  Came  Face  to  Face 
with  Broussard  and  Mrs.  Lawrence Frontispiece 

Broussard  Lifted  Gamechick  by  the  Bridle  and  the  Next 
Moment  Cleared  Both  Mare  and  Girl 54 

The  Last  Glimpse  Broussard  Had  of  Anita  Was,  As  She 
Stood,  Her  Arm  About  Gamechick's  Neck . .     106 

"This  Was  Enclosed  in  a  Letter  to  Me  From  Mr. 
Broussard,"  said  the  Colonel 161 

FROM  PEN  DRAWINGS 

The  Black  Mare  Suddenly  Threw  Her  Head  Down  and 
Her  Heels  Up 15 

"  Miss  Anita  is  in  there  with  Mr.  Broussard,  an'  He  got 
on  His  Courtin'  Breeches,  an'  They's  Just  as  Quiet  as 
a  Couple  of  Sleepin'  Babies" 31 

"Never  Mind,  Dear,  Darling  Daddy,  I  Love  You  Just 
the  Same" ". 43 

Mrs.  McGillicuddy  Sat  Majestically  Upright  in  the 
Buggy,  While  the  Sergeant  Bestrode  the  Peaceful  and 
Amiable  Dot 61 

"Neither  You  nor  Your  Child  Shall  Suffer  for  the 
Present" 137 

Kettle  Dropped  the  Reins,  and  Grasping  Corporal 
Around  the  Neck  Hung  on  Desperately 149 

"Don't  Call  Your  Father  'the  Poor  old  Chap,'"  Said 
Mrs.  Fortescue  Positively 169 


BETTY 
AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

CHAPTER  I 

"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

Colonel  John  Hope  Foktescue,  command- 
ing the  fine  new  cavalry  post  of  Fort  Blizzard, 
in  the  far  Northwest,  sat  in  his  comfortable 
office  and  gazed  through  the  big  window  at 
the  plaza  with  its  tall  flagstaff,  from  which 
the  splendid  regimental  flag  floated  in  the 
crystal  cold  air  of  December.  Afar  off  was  a 
broad  plateau  for  drills,  an  aviation  field,  and 
beyond  all,  a  still,  snow-bound  world,  walled  in 
by  jagged  peaks  of  ice.  It  seemed  to  Colonel 
Fortescue,  who  was  an  idealist  and  at  the 
same  time  a  crack  cavalry  officer,  that  the 
great  flag  on  the  giant  flagstaff  dominated  the 
frozen  world  around  it,  and  its  stars  were  a 
part  of  the  firmament.  When  the  sun  rose 
and  the  flag  was  run  up,  then  indeed  it  was 
sunrise.  And  when  the  sun  descended  in 
majesty,  so  the  flag  descended  in  glory. 

As  the  last  pale  gleam  of  splendor  touched 
the  flag,  the  sunset  gun  cracked  out  suddenly. 
Colonel  Fortescue  and  his  right-hand  man 

11 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

for  twenty  years,  Sergeant  Patrick  McGrilli- 
cuddy,  rose  to  their  feet  and  stood  at  * '  atten- 
tion,'* as  the  flag  fell  slowly.  Then  it  was 
reverently  furled,  and  the  color  sergeant,  with 
the  guard,  started  toward  the  Colonel's  quar- 
ters, all  whom  they  passed  making  way  for 
them  and  saluting  the  furled  colors. 

Colonel  Fortescue  continued  to  look  out  of 
the  window,  while  Sergeant  McGillicuddy, 
getting  some  belated  mail  together,  passed  out 
of  the  office  entrance  of  the  fine  new  command- 
ant's  quarters.  Two  horsewomen — Mrs. 
Fortescue,  she  who  had  been  Betty  Beverley, 
and  her  seventeen-year-old  Anita — followed 
by  a  trooper  as  escort,  were  coming  through  the 
main  entrance.  Colonel  Fortescue 's  eyes  soft- 
ened as  he  watched  his  wife  and  daughter,  Mrs. 
Fortescue  as  slim  as  when  she  was  Betty 
Beverley  of  old  in  Virginia,  and  riding  as 
lightly  and  gracefully  as  a  bird  on  the  wing. 

There  were  two  other  watchers  besides 
the  Colonel.  These  two  stood  at  the  drawing- 
room  window.  One  was  tall  and  black  and 
kind-eyed,  with  the  unquencliable  kindness  of 
the  colored  race.  His  official  name  was 
Solomon  Ezekiel  Pickup,  but  ever  since  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  as  Betty  Beverley,  had  taken  him, 
a  little  waif,  forlorn  and  homeless  and  friend- 
less, he  had  been  simply  Kettle,  being  as 
black  as  a  kettle.  He  had  watched  and  adored 
the  baby  days   of  "Marse  Beverley,"  the 

12 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

straight  young  stripling  now  training  to  be  a 
soldier  at  West  Point,  and  Anita,  the  violet- 
eyed  daughter,  the  adored  of  her  father's 
heart,  but  Kettle  had  not  come  into  his  own 
until  the  two-year-old  baby,  John  Hope  For- 
tescue  II,  had  arrived  in  a  world  which  did 
not  expect  him,  but  welcomed  him  the  more 
rapturously  on  that  account.  The  new  baby 
had  taken  everybody  by  surprise,  and  imme- 
diately acquired  the  name  of  the  After-Clap. 
He  coolly  approved  of  his  father  and  mother, 
and  thought  Anita  an.  entertaining  person 
when  she  got  down  on  the  floor  to  play  with 
him.  Naturally  he  was  indifferent  to  his 
twenty-year-old  brother,  whom  he  had  never 
seen,  but  Kettle — his  own  Kettle — ^was  the 
beloved  of  the  After-Clap's  heart.  Next  to 
Kettle  in  his  affections  was  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy,  the  six-foot-two  wife  of  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy,  who  had  eight  children,  of  as- 
sorted sizes,  and  still  found  time  to  do  a  great 
deal  for  the  After-Clap. 

Mrs.  Fortescue,  riding  briskly  across  the 
plaza,  and  seeing  Kettle,  so  black,  holding  in 
his  arms  the  laughing  baby,  so  white,  smiled 
and  waved  her  hand  at  them.  Then,  catching 
sight  of  the  Commanding  Officer,  standing  at 
the  window  of  his  office,  she  smiled  at  him. 
But  Colonel  Fortescue  was  not  smiling;  on 
the  contrary,  he  was  frowning  as  his  eyes  fell 
upon  Mrs.  Fortescue 's  mount,  Birdseye,  a 

13 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

light  built  black  mare,  with  a  shifty  eye  and 
a  propensity  to  make  free  with  her  hind  feet. 
More  than  once  Colonel  Fortescue  had  re- 
minded Mrs.  Fortescue  that  it  was  somewhat 
beneath  the  dignity  of  a  Conmianding  Officer 's 
wife  to  ride  a  kicking  horse.  But  Mrs.  For- 
tescue had  a  sneaking  affection  for  Birdseye 
and  much  preferred  her  to  Pretty  Maid,  the 
brown  mare  Anita  rode,  and  who  was  con- 
sidered as  demure  as  Anita,  and  Anita  was 
very  demure,  and  very,  very  pretty.  At  least, 
so  thought  Lieutenant  Victor  Broussard, 
watching  her  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye,  as  he 
passed  some  distance  away.  It  was  not  so  far 
away,  however,  that  Anita  could  not  see  the 
handsome  turn  of  his  close-cropped  black 
head,  and  his  eyes  full  of  laughter  and  cour- 
age and  impudence.  As  some  things  go  by 
contraries,  the  glimpse  of  Broussard  made 
Anita  dismount  quickly  from  Pretty  Maid  and 
flit  within  doors  to  avoid  the  sight  of  him. 
Once  indoors,  Anita  ran  where  she  could  catch 
a  last  look  of  Broussard 's  young  figure,  his 
cavalry  cape  thrown  back,  iDefore  he  turned 
the  corner  and  was  gone. 

Colonel  Fortescue,  at  the  office  window, 
returned  a  salute,  without  a  smile,  to  Mrs. 
Fortescue 's  greeting  from  afar.  His  teeth 
came  together  with  a  snap. 

''It's  the  last  time,"  he  said  aloud — ^mean- 
ing that  Mrs.  Fortescue  would  have  to  submit 

14 


THE  BLACK  MARE  SUDDENLY  THREW  HER  HEAD  DOWN  AND  HER 

HEELS  trP 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

to  his  judgment  in  horses  and  let  Birdseye 
alone. 

What  happened  next  turned  the  Colonel's 
resolution  to  adamant.  A  trooper  was  leading 
Pretty  Maid  away  and  another  trooper  was 
about  to  do  the  same  for  Birdseye  when  the 
black  mare  suddenly  threw  her  head  down 
and  her  heels  up.  Mrs.  Fortescue  kept  her 
seat,  while  the  mare,  backing,  and  kicking  as 
she  backed,  knocked  over  a  couple  of  the  pass- 
ing color  guard,  and  only  by  adroitness  the 
color  sergeant  saved  the  flag  from  being 
dropped  to  the  ground.  Meanwhile,  the  two 
troopers,  falling  backward,  collided  with  the 
chaplain,  a  small,  meek  man,  as  brave  as  a 
lion,  who  stopped  to  look  and  was  ignomini- 
ously  bowled  over.  Sergeant  McG-illicuddy, 
just  coming  out  of  the  office  entrance,  made 
a  dash  forward  and  grabbed  Birdseye  by  the 
bridle.  The  mare,  still  unable  to  unseat  Mrs. 
Fortescue  or  to  break  away  from  the  wiry 
little  Sergeant,  yet  managed  to  scatter  all  the 
official  mail  in  the  Sergeant's  hand  on  the 
snow.  Kettle,  who  could  not  have  remained 
away  from  ''Miss  Betty"  under  such  circum- 
stances to  save  his  life,  dropped  the  baby  on 
the  drawing-room  floor  and  rushed  out.  This 
the  After-Clap  resented,  shrieking  wildly. 

The  combination  of  the  kicking  mare,  the 
fallen  troopers,  the  prostrate  chaplain,  and 
the  screaming  baby  at  once  determined  Colonel 

2  17 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Fortescue  to  remain  in  his  office ;  what  he  had 
to  say  to  Mrs.  Fortescue  would  not  sound 
well  in  public.  Unlike  Kettle,  Colonel  For- 
tescue had  no  fear  whatever  for  Mrs.  For- 
tescue, and  watched  calmly  from  the  window 
as  Sergeant  McGrillicuddy  brought  Birdseye 
to  her  four  feet.  Mrs.  Fortescue  sprang  to 
the  ground  and  apologized  gracefully  to  the 
chaplain,  assuring  him  that  Birdseye  was  the 
best  disposed  horse  in  the  world,  except  when 
she  was  in  a  temper  and  her  temper  was 
merely  bashfulness  and  stage  fright. 

''Whatever  it  is,"  answered  Chaplain 
Brown,  smiling  while  he  rubbed  a  bruised 
shin,  ' '  it  hurts.    It  hurts  pretty  badly,  too. ' ' 

Next,  Mrs.  Fortescue  apologized  profusely 
to  the  troopers  who  had  been  knocked  down 
by  the  bashful  Birdseye.  After  their  kind, 
they  preferred  a  kicker  to  a  non-kicker,  and 
accepted,  with  delighted  grins,  Mrs.  For- 
tescue's  sweet  words.  But  it  was  another 
thing  when  Mrs.  Fortescue  had  to  face  a 
frowning  husband. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  tripped  into  the  ColonePs 
office,  and  going  up  to  Colonel  Fortescue  gave 
him  two  soft  kisses  and  a  lovely  smile,  and 
this  is  what  she  got  in  return,  in  the  Colonel's 
parade-ground  voice : 

''I  supposed  I  had  made  myself  perfectly 
clear,  Elizabeth,  in  regard  to  your  riding 
that  kicking  mare.'* 

18 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

"But,  darling,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue, 
**I  thought  you  wouldn't  mind.  And  please 
don 't  call  me  Elizabeth.   It  breaks  my  heart. ' ' 

*'I  must  ask — in  fact,  insist — that  you  shall 
not  ride  that  mare  again,"  answered  the 
Colonel  sternly,  without  taking  any  notice  of 
Mrs.  Fortescue 's  breaking  heart. 

*'And  her  name  is  Birdseye,"  plaintively 
responded  Mrs.  Fortescue.  ''Don't  you  re- 
member, the  first  horse  you  ever  put  me  on 
was  your  first  Birdseye." 

Mrs.  Fortescue  accompanied  this  informa- 
tion with  a  little  pinch  of  the  Colonel's  ear. 
The  Colonel  remained  coldly  unresponsive; 
he  had  steeled  his  heart;  the  kisses  and  the 
pinch  were  hard  to  resist,  but  hardest  of  all 
the  look  of  wide-eyed  innocence  in  the  dark 
eyes  uplifted  to  his.  Mrs.  Fortescue  would 
never  see  forty  again,  and  her  rich  hair  had 
a  wide  streak  of  silver  running  from  her 
right  temple;  but  she  was  the  same  Betty 
Beverley  of  twenty  years  before.  The  Betty 
Beverley s  of  this  world  are  dowered  with 
immortal  youth  and  change  but  little,  even 
under  strange  stars. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  had  never  in  her  life  been 
at  the  end  of  her  resources  for  placating  men. 
She  withdrew  her  arms  from  about  her  hus- 
band's neck,  and  running  lightly  into  the  draw- 
ing-room took  the  After-Clap  from  Kettle's 

19 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

arms,  and,  throwing  him  pick-a-back  on  her 
shoulders,  tripped  with  her  beautiful  man- 
child  into  the  Colonel's  office.  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue  and  the  baby  were  the  only  persons  who 
ever  took  liberties  with  Colonel  Fortescue. 

The  baby,  charmed  with  his  father's  uni- 
form, seized  a  shoulder  strap  with  one  hand 
and  grabbed  the  Colonel's  carefully  trimmed 
mustache  with  the  otlier,  and  lifted  a  pair  of 
laughing  eyes,  wonderfully  like  his  mother's, 
into  his  father's  face.  Mrs.  Fortescue,  at 
first  as  demure  as  any  C.  0.*9  wife  in  the 
world,  suddenly  smiled  the  radiant  smile  that 
began  with  her  eyes  and  ended  with  her  lips. 
The  woman's  cunning  was  too  much  for  the 
man's  strength.  Colonel  Fortescue  put  his 
arm  around  his  wife,  as  she  laid  the  baby's 
rose-leaf  face  against  his  father's  bronzed 
cheek.  Husband  and  wife  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes  and  smiled.  "With  this  baby 
their  lost  youth  was  restored  to  them.  Once 
more  the  Colonel  was  a  slim  young  lieutenant, 
and  Mrs.  Fortescue  was  holding  in  her  arms 
another  dark-eyed,  rose-leafed  baby,  now  a 
young  soldier  in  the  gray  uniform  of  a  mili- 
tary cadet.  They,  themselves,  could  scarcely 
realize  the  flitting  of  the  years.  This  new 
baby  was  a  glorious  surprise  in  their  later 
married  life.  The  baby's  little  hand  had  led 
them  backward  to  the  splendid  sunrise  of  their 
married  happiness. 

90 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

**It  is  because  I  love  you  so  that  I  can't — 
I  won't  let  you  ride  that  black  devil,  Betty 
dear,"  said  the  Colonel. 

''How  ridiculous !"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue. 
"You  know  I  can  ride  as  well  as  you  can — 
can't  I,  After-Clap?" 

"Goo-goo-goo-goo!"  replied  the  baby, 
positively. 

"And  I  never  could  understand  why  you 
should  take  the  trouble  to  get  angry  with  me, ' ' 
Mrs.  Fortescue  kept  on,  "when  you  can't  stay 
angry  with  me  to  save  your  life. ' ' 

Colonel  Fortescue  made  a  last  stand. 

"But  if  I  didn't  get  angry  with  you  some- 
times, Betty " 

"  'Betty'  sounds  cheerful,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  and  then  there  was  peace 
between  them. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  and  the  Colonel  went  up- 
stairs to  dress  for  dinner,  and  Kettle,  on  watch 
in  the  hall,  took  charge  of  the  After-Clap,  who 
commanded  to  be  taken  back  into  the  office. 
Kettle,  as  always,  promptly  obeyed,  and  put- 
ting the  baby  on  Sergeant  McGillicuddy's 
desk,  allowed  the  After-Clap  to  wreck  every- 
thing in  sight. 

It  had  not  been  originally  designed  that 
Kettle  should  be  the  After-Clap 's  nurse.  The 
colored  mammy  who  had  nursed  Beverley  and 
Anita  with  tender  devotions  having  gone  to 
her  well-earned  rest,   Mrs.   Fortescue  had 

21 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

determined  to  be  very  modern  with  the  After- 
Clap.  A  smart  young  trained  nurse,  in  a 
ravishing  cap,  was  his  first  nurse.  But  the 
baby  showed  such  marked  preference  for 
Kettle,  and  Kettle  dogging  the  baby  by  day 
and  night  and  thrusting  superfluous  services 
and  advice  upon  the  nurse,  she  decided  she 
would  not  stand  being  "bossed  by  a  nigger," 
and  took  a  train  for  the  East.  Then,  Mrs. 
Fortescue  determined  to  return  to  first  prin- 
ciples and  imported  from  Virginia,  at  great 
cost  and  trouble,  a  colored  mammy,  most 
capable  and  experienced.  But  the  complica- 
tions with  Kettle  grew  more  acute,  and  the 
mammy,  in  a  blaze  of  indignation,  took  even 
stronger  ground  than  the  trained  nurse,  and 
declared  she  *  'warn 't  goin'  to  be  bossed  by  no 
black  nigger. ' '  When  she  had  shaken  the  snow 
of  Fort  Blizzard  from  her  feet,  there  was 
nothing  left  but  to  hand  the  baby  over  to 
Kettle  and  Mrs.  McGrillicuddy,  as  coadjutor. 
After  tending  her  own  brood  and  keeping  a 
sharp  eye  on  Anna  Maria  McGillicuddy,  her 
eldest  daughter,  who  had  reached  the  stage  of 
beaux,  and  cooking  the  best  meals  for  the 
Sergeant  that  any  sergeant  could  ask,  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy  still  had  time  to  lend  a  helping 
hand  with  the  After-Clap. 

Kettle  and  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  had  been 
good  friends  ever  since  the  time,  nineteen 
years  before,  when  she  had  become  the  little 

22 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

Sergeant's  two-hundred-pound  bride.  But  in 
the  twenty  years,  during  which  Kettle  had 
never  left  ''Miss  Betty"  and  Sergeant  Mc- 
Gillicuddy  had  been  Colonel  Fortescue's  fac- 
totum, there  had  been  a  continual  guerilla 
warfare  between  Kettle  and  the  Sergeant. 
The  Sergeant  alluded  scornfully  to  Kettle  as 
' '  the  naygur, ' '  while  with  Kettle  the  Sergeant 
was  always  "qle  McGillicuddy. "  Mrs.  Mc- 
Gillicuddy  was  invariably  on  Kettle's  side, 
and  one  blast  upon  her  bugle  horn  was  worth 
ten  thousand  men  in  what  Kettle  called  his 
''collusions,"  mth  the  Sergeant.  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy  had  performed  prodigies  of 
valor  in  fights  with  Indians ;  he  had  been  men- 
tioned in  general  order,  along  with  Colonel 
Fortescue,  and  was  commonly  reputed  to  fear 
neither  the  devil  nor  the  doctor.  But  he  was 
under  iron  discipline  with  Mrs.  McGillicuddy, 
and  Kettle,  like  everybody  else,  knew  it. 

"While  the  After-Clap  was  disporting  him- 
self with  the  articles  on  the  Sergeant's  desk, 
under  the  full  glare  of  the  electric  light,  a 
shadow  passed  the  window.  The  next  minute 
Sergeant  McGillicuddy  entered,  the  lion  in 
him  aroused  by  the  sight  of  the  liberties  taken 
with  his  desk. 

"I  say,  you  naygur,"  snorted  the  Sergeant 
wrathfully,  "you  take  that  baby  off  my  desk 
and  out  of  this  office.  The  C.  O.'s  office  ain't 
no  day  nursery." 

S3 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

''You  go  to  grass,"  replied  Kettle  boldly. 

The  reason  for  Kettle's  boldness  was  in 
sight.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy's  majestic  figure 
was  seen  approaching  from  the  region  back 
of  the  dining-room,  and  she  had  heard  the 
Sergeant's  remark  about  the  C.  O.'si  office 
being  a  day  nursery. 

"And  it's  you,  Patrick  McGillicuddy, " 
cried  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  sailing  into  the  office, 
'  *  the  father  of  eight  children,  complaining  of 
this  sweet  blessed  lamb." 

*'D'  ye  mean  the  naygurT'  asked  Mc- 
Gillicuddy. 

Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  scorning  to  reply,  seized 
the  baby,  and  with  Kettle  following  marched 
out.  It  was  not  really  judicious  for  the  After- 
Clap  to  be  taken  into  the  C.  0.  's  office. 

The  Sergeant  began  meekly  to  straighten 
up  his  desk,  and  Colonel  Fortescue,  coming 
in  later  to  glance  over  the  evening  newspaper, 
found  McGrillicuddy  gazing  meditatively  at 
the  Articles  of  War,  lying  in  a  volume  on  the 
table. 

The  Sergeant  was  not  the  modern  educated 
non-com.  with  an  eye  to  a  commission,  but 
an  old-timer,  unlearned  in  books,  but  an  ex- 
pert in  handling  men  and  horses. 

''What  is  it.  Sergeant?"  asked  the  C.  O. 

"Just  this,  sir,"  replied  the  Sergeant  re- 
spectfully, "I  was  thinkin'  a  man  ought  to  be 
mighty  keerful  when  he  picks  out  a  wife." 

24, 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  Colonel,  gravely, 
who  had  exercised  no  forethought  at  all,  after 
once  falling  under  the  spell  of  Betty  Bever- 
ley's laughing  eyes. 

''When  I  got  married  I  didn't  act  rash  at 
all,  sir,  because  I'm  by  nature  a  timid  man," 
continued  the  iSergeant,  who  was  a  valiant 
man,  and  free.  ' '  I  went  to  a  palmist  and  paid 
him  a  dollar  for  my  horrorscope.  I  told  him  I 
wanted  a  little  woman,  about  my  size,  who 
would  follow  me  around  like  a  poodle  dog. 
The  palmist,  he  said,  sir,  he  seen  a  little  woman 
in  my  hand  as  would  follow  me  around  like  a 
poodle  dog.  Then  I  went  to  a  reg'lar  fortune 
teller,  and  she  told  me  the  same  thing,  for  a 
dollar.  And  I  went  to  a  mind  reader,  the 
seventh  daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter,  and 
she  promised  me  the  little  woman,  too.  I 
bought  a  dream  book  and  there  was  the  same 
little  woman  again,  sir.  Within  a  fortnight 
after  all  this  I  met  Araminta  Morrarity,  as 
is  now  Missis  Patrick  McGillicuddy,  and  she 
is  six-foot-two-and- three-quarters  inches  in 
height,  and  tipped  the  scale  then  at  a  hundred 
and  ninety-six  pounds — and  I'm  the  lightest 
man  in  the  regiment.  Missis  McGillicuddy 
has  been  a  good  wife,  sir — I  ain't  sayin'  a 
word  about  that,  sir. ' ' 

''I  should  think  not,"  replied  Colonel  For- 
tescue,  to  whom  the  Sergeant's  married  life 
was  known  intimately  for  nineteen  years, 

SB 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

**Mrs.  McGillicuddy  keeps  all  the  soldiers' 
wives  satisfied  and  is  a  boon  to  the  regiment. ' ' 

' '  That 's  so,  sir, ' '  the  Sergeant  agreed, ' '  and 
the  chaplain,  he  compliments  her  on  the  way 
she  marches  them  eight  children  and  me  to 
the  chapel  every  Sunday,  rain  or  shine,  me 
havin'  the  right  of  the  line.  Missis  McGrilli- 
cuddy  herself  bein'  the  rear  guard,  the  line 
properly  dressed,  no  stragglers,  everything 
done  soldier-like.  But  Missis  McGillicuddy 
don't  follow  me  around  like  a  poodle  dog,  as 
the  palmist,  and  the  mind  reader,  and  the 
dream  book  said  she  would.  She 's  hell-bent — 
excuse  me  sir — on  havin'  her  own  way  all 
the  time." 

Just  then  a  vision  flitted  past  the  door.  It 
was  Anita,  dressed  for  dinner,  in  a  filmy  gown 
of  pale  blue  and  white,  the  colors  of  the 
Blessed  Damozel.  A  light  came  into  Colonel 
Fortescue's  eyes  as  they  rested  on  this  darling 
of  his  heart.  The  iSergeant  had  a  pretty 
daughter,  Anna  Maria  by  name,  who  was  just 
Anita's  age  and  of  whom  the  Sergeant  was 
extravagantly  fond.  The  two  fathers^  the 
Colonel  and  the  Sergeant,  exchanged  intelli- 
gent glances.  Often,  in  their  twenty  years 
of  daily  association,  they  talked  together 
about  things  of  which  they  never  spoke  to  any 
other  man. 

"Anna  Maria  is  a  fine  girl,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

26 


MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 


<<' 


'Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  Sergeant,  **if 
she^d  just  get  over  the  fancy  she  has  for 
Briggs,  the  artillery  corporal.  That  man  is 
bound  to  be  killed  by  a  wheel  runnin'  over 
him.  You  know,  sir,  if  there  is  anything  on 
earth  that  skeers  me  stiff  it  is  a  horse  hitched 
to  any  kind  of  a  vehicle.  I  don't  mind  ridin' 
'em,  because  then  the  horse's  heels  is  behind 
me.  But  in  a  vehicle  the  horse's  heels  is  in 
front  of  me,  and  it  makes  me  nervous.  I  have 
told  Anna  Mariar  that  she  shan't  so  much  as 
look  at  Briggs  unless  he  exchanges  into  the 
cavalry,  so  the  horse's  heels  will  bo  behind 
him,  and  not  in  front  of  him. ' ' 

The  entrance  bell  rang,  and  Kettle  went  to 
the  front  door.  Colonel  Fortescue  could 
neither  hear  nor  see  the  visitor,  but  the  step 
and  the  sound  of  a  military  cloak  thrown  on  a 
chair  indicated  the  arrival  of  a  junior  lieu- 
tenant. Colonel  Fortescue  looked  annoyed. 
The  junior  officer  running  after  Anita  both- 
ered him  even  more  than  Briggs,  the  artillery 
corporal,  bothered  Sergeant  McGillicuddy. 
Anita  was  but  a  child — only  seventeen;  the 
Colonel  had  proclaimed  this  when  he  brought 
Anita  to  the  post.  Colonel  Fortescue  did  all 
that  a  father  and  a  Colonel  could  do  to  keep 
the  junior  lieutenants  away  from  Anita,  but 
no  method  has  yet  been  found  to  keep  junior 
officers  away  from  pretty  girls. 

There  were  still  twenty  minutes  before 

27 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

dinner,  and  the  scoundrel,  as  Colonel  Fortes- 
cue  classified  all  the  juniors  who,  like  himself, 
adored  Anita,  seemed  determined  to  stay  until 
the  musical  gong  sounded,  and  later,  if  he 
were  asked.  This  particular  scoundrel, 
Broussard,  was  the  one  to  whom  the  Colonel 
most  objected  of  all  the  slim,  good-looking 
scoundrels  who  wore  shoulder  straps,  for 
Broussard  had  too  much  money  to  spend,  and 
spent  it  wildly,  so  the  Colonel  thought;  he, 
himself,  had  something  handsome  besides  his 
pay,  but  he  had  also  a  sensible  father  who 
held  him  down.  Broussard  had  too  many 
motors,  too  many  horses,  too  many  dogs,  too 
many  clothes,  too  many  fighting  chickens,  and, 
above  all,  was  too  intimate  with  a  certain 
soldier,  a  gentleman-ranker  who  was  disap- 
proved, both  of  officer  and  man.  A  gentleman- 
ranker  is  a  man  serving  in  the  rank  who 
might  be  an  officer.  This  one,  Lawrence  by 
name,  was  a  bad  lot  altogether.  The  Colonel 
could  add  quite  a  respectable  number  of  de- 
merits to  Broussard 's  credit.  And  to  make 
matters  worse,  Broussard  was  a  dashing  fel- 
low, the  best  rider  in  his  troop,  and  had  a  way 
with  him  that  made  Anita's  eyes  soften  and 
her  tea-rose  cheeks  brighten  when  he  came 
within  her  presence. 

Meanwhile,  Broussard  was  walking  up  the 
long  and  handsome  drawing-room  toward  the 
little  glass  room  at  the  end,  which  had  been 

38 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

fitted  up  for  Anita's  birds,  her  doves  and  her 
canaries.      / 

Anita,  leaning  backward  in  tbe  cushioned 
window  seat,  held  to  her  breast  a  fluttering 
white  dove.  She  did  not  see  Broussard  until 
he  was  quite  in  the  little  room,  and  had  closed 
the  glass  door  after  him.  As  Anita  gave 
Broussard  her  hand,  a  great  wave  of  delicate 
color  flooded  her  face.  This  quickened  the 
beating  of  Broussard 's  heart — Anita  did  not 
blush  like  that  for  everybody.  She  had  a 
gentle  aloofness  generally  toward  men  which 
was  a  baffling  mystery  to  her  mother. 

Broussard,  being  frankly  in  love  with 
Anita,  lost  all  his  importance  and  presump- 
tion in  her  sweet  presence,  and  was  as  gentle 
and  modest  as  the  white  dove  that  Anita  still 
held  to  her  breast.  As  he  longed  to  sit  near 
her  and  ask  her  poignant  questions,  Brous- 
sard sat  a  long  way  off  and  talked  common- 
places, chiefly  about  birds,  of  which  he  showed 
a  surprising  knowledge,  gleaned  that  after- 
noon from  the  encyclopaedia,  in  anticipation 
of  his  visit.  Also,  Broussard  had,  very  art- 
fully, secured  a  traitor  in  the  enemy's  camp 
because  it  was  well  understood  at  Fort  Bliz- 
zard that  Colonel  Fortescue  was  the  enemy  of 
every  subaltern  at  the  post  who  dared  to 
raise  his  sacrilegious  eyes  to  the  Colonel's 
daughter. 

This  traitor  was  Kettle,  into  whose  hand 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Broussard  never  failed  to  place  a  quarter 
whenever  they  met,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
wink  gravely.  Kettle  knew  the  meaning  both 
of  the  quarter  and  the  wink. 

Across  the  hall  Kettle  was  arranging  the 
dinner  table,  it  being  Mrs.  McGillicuddy's 
duty  to  put  the  After-Clap  to  bed.  The  din- 
ing-room door  was  ajar,  and  Kettle  kept  an 
eye  open  to  Broussard 's  advantage. 

Presently,  Mrs.  Fortescue  came  down-stairs, 
dressed  for  dinner  in  a  gown  of  a  jocund  yel- 
low, which  Colonel  Fortescue  liked.  As  she 
passed  the  open  door  of  the  handsome  dining- 
room.  Kettle  beckoned  to  her  mysteriously. 
Mrs.  Fortescue  walked  into  the  room  and 
Kettle  closed  the  door  after  her. 

''Miss  Betty,"  whispered  Kettle  earnestly, 
''doan'  you  go  into  that  there  apiary,"  by 
which  Kettle  meant  the  aviary.  ' '  Miss  Anita  is 
in  there  with  Mr.  Broussard,  an'  he  got  on 
his  courtin'  breeches,  an'  they's  jest  as  quiet 
as  a  couple  of  sleepin'  babies." 

A  look  of  annoyance  came  to  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue's  expressive  eyes.  The  Colonel  had  im- 
bued her  with  disapproval  of  the  man  of  too 
many  motors  and  horses  and  dogs  and  clothes 
and  fighting  chickens. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  waved  Kettle  away  and 
marched  into  the  hall,  where  she  met  Colonel 
Fortescue  coming  out  of  his  office. 

''It's  Broussard,"  she  whispered  to  the 
Colonel. 

30 


"miss  ANITA  IS  IN  THEEE  WITH  MR.  BROUSSARD,  AN'  HE  GOT 

ON  HIS  courtin'  breeches,  an'  they's  just  as  quiet  as  a 

COUPLE  OF  SLEEPIN'  BABIES" 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

Together  they  entered  the  long  drawing- 
room.  Broussard  and  Anita  were  leaning 
forward;  Anita's  face  was  still  deeply- 
flushed.  Her  beloved  white  dove  fluttered, 
unnoticed,  about  her  white-shod  feet.  "When 
the  glass  door  opened  and  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Fortescue  entered  the  little  glass  room,  both 
Anita  and  Broussard  started  violently — a 
sign  of  captive  love. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  was  gracious,  merely  be- 
cause she  could  not  help  it,  and  the  Colonel 
treated  Broussard  with  the  elaborate  courtesy 
which  a  Colonel  shows  to  a  subaltern  and 
which  makes  the  subaltern  look  and  feel  the 
size  of  the  head  of  a  pin.  Naturally,  Brous- 
sard hastened  his  leave-taking  and  received 
no  invitation  to  remain,  except  from  Anita's 
eyes,  shy  and  long-lashed. 

WTien  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  and 
Anita  were  sitting  at  the  softly-shaded  round 
table  in  the  dining-room,  Anita's  chair  was 
close  to  her  father 's — the  two  were  never  far 
apart  when  they  could  be  close  together.  Mrs. 
Fortescue  wore  around  her  white  throat  a 
locket  with  a  miniature  in  it  of  her  boy  soldier. 
He  was  to  her  what  Anita  was  to  the  Colonel, 
but  being  a  stout-hearted  woman  she  had  sent 
her  son  away  to  be  a  soldier  and  had  worn  a 
smile  at  parting.  There  was  a  strain  of  the 
Spartan  mother  in  this  smiling  daughter, 
wife,  and  mother  of  soldiers. 

8  SS 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

"Did  you  have  a  pleasant  visit  from  Mr. 
Broussard?"  asked  Colonel  Fortescue. 

''Very  pleasant,  daddy  dear.  He  knows  so 
mnchi  about  birds." 

"I  think,"  replied  the  Colonel,  darkly, 
"Mr.  Broussard's  knowledge  conies  chiefly 
from  the  study  of  fighting  chickens." 

"I  hear  he  has  cockfights  on  iSunday,  in  the 
cellar  of  his  quarters,"  said  Mrs.  Fortescue, 
willing  to  give  Broussard  a  slashing  cut  under 
the  fifth  rib. 

"Cocking  mains,  my  dear,"  corrected  the 
Colonel,  and  then  kept  on,  earnestly,  to  Anita. 

"You  can  scarcely  imagine  the  horrors  of 
a  cockpit.  The  poor  gamecocks,  with  cruel 
spurs  upon  their  feet,  tearing  each  other  to 
pieces,  and  blood  and  feathers  all  over  the 
place. '  * 

"You  seem  wonderfully  familiar  with  cock- 
pits," remarked  Mrs.  Fortescue.  "It  seems 
to  me,  when  we  went  to  our  first  post  after 
we  were  married,  that  you  were  sometimes 
missing  on  Sunday  morning,  and  used  to  tell 
me  afterward  about  the  grand  time  you  had, 
and  the  superior  fighting  qualities  of  the 
Savoys  over  the  Bantams. '  * 

The  Colonel  scowled. 

"I  don't  recall  the  circumstances,  Eliza- 
beth," he  said. 

"But  I  do,  John,"  tartly  responded  Mrs. 
Fortescue. 

H 


"MISS  BETTY"  IN  A  NEW  ROLE 

Anita  knew  that  when  it  was  Jack  and  Betty 
the  skies  were  serene,  and  when  it  became 
John  and  Elizabeth  there  were  clouds  upon 
the  horizon. 

At  this  point  Kettle,  who  was  serving  din- 
ner, felt  that  his  duty  as  Broussard's  ally  was 
to  speak. 

*'Miss  Betty,"  said  he  with  solemn  empha- 
sis, *'Mr.  Broussard  doan'  keep  them  chickens 
in  his  cellar  fur  to  fight ;  he  keeps  'em  to  lay 
aigs  fur  his  breakfus'." 

''That's  queer,"  said  the  Colonel,  ''all  of 
Mr.  Broussard 's  chickens  are  cock  chickens.** 

This  would  have  abashed  a  less  ardent  par- 
tisan, but  it  only  stimulated  Kettle. 

"Come  to  think  of  it,  Miss  Betty,"  Kettle 
continued  stoutly,  "them  chickens  is  cock 
chickens,  but  Mr.  Broussard,  he  keep  'em  for 
fryin'  chickens  and  bri'lers;  he  eats  a  cock 
chicken  ev'ry  mornin'  fur  his  breakfus',  day 
in  and  day  out. ' ' 

"Oh,  Kettle!"  said  Anita,  in  a  tone  of  soft 
reproach.  She  disliked  the  notion  of  a  cock- 
pit, but  she  was  a  lover  of  abstract  truth, 
which  Kettle  was  not. 

"Well,  Miss  Anita,"  Kettle  began  argu- 
mentatively,  "the  truth  is,  Mr.  Broussard,  he 
jes'  keep  them  chickens  to  'commodate  the 
chaplain.  The  chaplain,  he's  a  gre't  cock- 
fighter,  an'  he  say,  'Mr.  Broussard,  the  Kun'l 
is  mighty  strict,  an'  kinder  queer  in  his  head, 

35 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

an'  he  ain't  no  dead  game  sport  like  me  an' 
you,  so  if  you  will  oblige  me,  Mr.  Broussard, 
jes'  keep  my  fightin'  chickens  in  your  cellar, 
an'  if  the  Kun'l  say  anything  to  you,  tell  him 
them  chickens  is  youm.  You  wouldn't  mind  a 
little  thing  like  that,  would  you,  Mr.  Brous- 
sard?' That's  what  I  heerd  the  chaplain 
say. ' ' 

''Kettle!"  shouted  the  Colonel,  and  Mrs. 
Fortescue  remarked  candidly : 

*'You  are  a  big  story-teller,  Kettle,  there 
isn't  a  word  of  truth  in  all  you  have  been 
telling." 

** That's  so.  Miss  Betty,"  announced  Kettle, 
brazenly.  *  *  Truth  is,  Mr.  Broussard  ain  't  got 
no  chickens  at  all  in  his  cellar,  he  keeps  ducks, 
Miss  Betty,  'cause  the  water  rises  in  the  cellar 
all  the  time." 

Kettle's  active  help  did  not  end  with  whole- 
sale lying  as  a  means  of  ^helping  Broussard. 
Within  a  week  every  time  the  After-Clap 
caught  sight  of  Broussard  he  would  shout 
for  **Bruwer."  This,  Kettle  carefully  ex- 
plained, was  the  baby's  way  of  saying  Brous- 
sard, but  it  brought  a  good  many  quarters 
from  Broussard 's  pocket  into  Kettle's  palm. 


CHAPTER  II 
A  PRETTY  MAID  AND  A  GAMECHICK 

The  December  days  sped  on,  and  Ckristmas 
was  nearing.  As  the  great,  splendid  fort 
was  a  shut-in  place,  the  people  in  it  made 
great  preparations  for  Christmas,  if  only  to 
forget  that  they  were  shut  in.  The  Christmas 
Eve  exhibition  drill  and  music  ride  was  to  be 
the  principal  event  of  the  season,  and,  wonder 
of  wonders,  Anita  was  to  ride  with  Broussard 
at  the  music  ride.  This  was  not  accomplished 
without  pleadings  and  even  tears  from  Anita- 
Mrs.  Fortescue  took  no  part  in  this  affair 
between  the  Colonel  and  the  adored  of  his 
heart;  Anita  and  the  Colonel  had  always 
settled  their  problems  between  themselves 
solely.  Sergeant  McGrillicuddy  had  something 
to  do  with  wringing  from  the  Colonel  his  con- 
sent that  Anita  should  ride  with  Broussard. 

"Accordin*  to  my  way  of  thinkin',  Mr. 
Broussard  is  the  best  rider  of  all  the  young 
orficers,  sir,"  said  McGillicuddy  to  the 
Colonel,  in  the  seclusion  of  the  office.  **Miss 
Anita,  she'd  look  mighty  pretty  ridin'  with 
him,  and  Pretty  Maid  is  as  quiet  as  a  lamb, 
sir,  under  the  saddle.  I  wouldn't  answer  for 
her  in  shafts,  sir.  Lord !  There 's  nothin '  too 
devilish  for  a  horse  to  do  in  shafts,  or  hitched 

37 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

to  a  pole.  Missis  McGillicuddy  can't  see  it  in 
this  light,  judgin'  from  the  Christmas  gift 
she's  preparin'  to  give  me." 

''What  is  it,  McGillicuddy?"  asked  the 
Colonel. 

''It's  a  buggy,  sir,"  answered  the  Sergeant 
despondently.  "When  I  wanted  to  enlist  in 
the  aviation  corps  that  woman,  sir,  forbid  it ; 
she  said  to  me,  'Patrick  McGillicuddy,  I  never 
did  believe  one  word  about  your  bein'  afraid 
av  horses  in  wheeled  vehicles.'  An'  ivery 
time  I  go  up  in  a  flyin'  machine,  just  for  the 
fun  av  it,  Missis  McGillicuddy,  she  says  to  me, 
'  Patrick,  if  they  was  to  lop  off  the  f  from  that 
flyin'  machine,  it  would  fit  you  to  a  t,  bedad !' 
And  that's  the  way  she  talks  to  me  when  I 
spent  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  in  gettin' 
prognostications  that  I  was  goin'  to  marry  a 
woman  as  would  follow  me  around  like  a 
poodle  dog!" 

"Women  have  a  good  many  burrs  in  their 
convolutions,"  said  the  Colonel,  lighting  a 
cigar  and  handing  a  handful  to  the  Sergeant. 

"They  has,  sir,"  replied  McGillicuddy,  ac- 
cepting the  cigars  with  doleful  gratitude, ' '  and 
Missis  McGillicuddy  threatens  to  take  me  out 
in  that  buggy  on  Christmas  day.  Well,  sir, 
I  'vemade  my  will  and  settled  up  my  account  at 
the  post  trader 's,  and  the  aviation  orficer  has 
promised  to  tak'  me  on  a  fly  Christmas  Eve 
morning.    It  may  be  the  last  fly  I'll  take  until 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

I  get  wings,  for  I  hardly  expects,  sir,  to  escape 
the  dangers  of  that  buggy. ' ' 

In  talking  with  Mrs.  Fortescue  about  the 
music  ride  Colonel  Fortescue  dwelt  upon  the 
superiority  of  a  quiet  horse  like  Pretty  Maid 
over  a  constitutional  kicker  like  Birdseye. 

' '  It 's  the  quiet  ones,  horses  and  women,  that 
need  watching,'^  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue,  who 
had  never  been  accused  of  being  a  quiet  one. 

For  two  weeks  before  Christmas  the  ex- 
hibition drill  and  music  ride  was  the  great 
subject  of  attention  at  Fort  Blizzard.  The 
most  interesting  part  of  the  show  was  the 
music  ride,  in  which  the  girls  of  the  post  were 
to  ride,  each  girl  having  her  attendant  cava- 
lier. When  it  was  known  that  Anita  was  to 
ride  with  Broussard  all  the  other  sublieuten- 
ants who  had  hoped  to  sit  in  Broussard 's 
saddle  promptly  provided  themselves  with 
other  charming  young  ladies  of  the  post. 
Next  to  Anita,  the  best  rider  was  Sally  Har- 
low, the  daughter  of  her  who  had  been  Sally 
Carteret.  Mrs.  Harlow  foUowed  the  example 
of  Mrs.  Fortescue,  whose  bridesmaid  she  had 
been,  and  had  married  within  a  year  the  dash- 
ing young  officer  with  whom  she  "stood  up" 
at  Mrs.  Fortescue 's  wedding.  Mrs.  Harlow, 
like  Mrs.  Fortescue,  showed  a  marked  in- 
ability to  grow  old  and  was  as  gay  and  drank 
the  wine  of  life  as  joyously  as  did  her  daugh- 
ter, Sally  the  Second. 

39 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

For  a  fortniglit  before  Christmas  the  prac- 
tice rides  took  place  every  afternoon  in  the 
great  riding  hall,  in  which  four  troops  of 
cavalry  could  manoeuvre. 

As  the  daughter  of  the  C.  O.,  Anita,  with 
Broussard,  was  to  lead  the  girl  riders  and 
their  cavaliers.  Broussard  called  punctually 
at  the  Colonel's  quarters  for  Anita,  on  the  red 
December  afternoons,  when  the  air  was  like 
champagne  and  Broussard  felt  as  if  his  veins 
ran  wine  instead  of  blood.  The  After-Clap, 
under  Kettle's  secret  instructions,  became  a 
valuable  ally  of  Broussard 's.  Kettle  managed 
that  the  baby's  afternoon  ride  in  his  wicker 
carriage  should  coincide  with  Broussard 's 
arrival.  The  dark-eyed  baby,  in  his  little 
white  fur  coat  and  cap  and  white  fur  blanket, 
looked  like  a  snowdrop  by  the  side  of  Kettle, 
who',  except  his  shiny  teeth,  was  so  black  it 
seemed  as  if  he  had  been  coated  with  shoe- 
polish.  The  After-Clap  always  hailed  Brous- 
sard with  a  vigorous  shout  of  "Bruwerl 
Bruwer!"  and  Kettle  invariably  explained: 

"He's  a-tryin'  to  say  'Mr.  Boosard.'  " 

At  this  Broussard  would  laugh  and  agree 
with  Kettle  that  the  After-Clap  was  the  know- 
ingest  baby  in  the  world,  and  Anita  would 
blush  beautifully.  Colonel  Fortescue's  heart 
sank  when  he  saw  Broussard  and  Anita  walk- 
ing off  together;  Broussard  so  trim  and 
soldierly  in  his  riding  uniform  and  Anita  so 

40 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

amazingly  pretty  in  her  blue  habit  and  cap, 
cunningly  imitating  the  cavalry  uniform,  a 
fetching  dress  adopted  by  all  the  young  ladies 
who  were  to  take  part  in  the  music  ride. 

The  drill  and  ride  were  to  begin  at  eight 
o'clock  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  afterward  there 
was  to  be  a  big  ball,  for  at  Fort  Blizzard  the 
young  girls  and  young  officers  ended  every- 
thing with  a  ball,  where  they  could  '*  chase 
the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet. '  * 

A  great  silver  moon  and  a  mighty  host  of 
palpitating  stars  put  the  electric  lights  to 
shame  on  Christmas  Eve.  When  Broussard 
called  for  Anita,  a  little  before  eight,  she  was 
waiting,  already  dressed  in  the  pretty  imita- 
tion of  an  officer's  uniform — a  costume  that 
would  make  even  a  plain  girl  enchanting,  and 
how  much  more  so  the  violet-eyed  Anita? 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  in  a  beautiful  ball  gown, 
looked  quite  as  handsome  as  her  daughter. 
The  regimental  tailor  had  been  busy  all  day 
letting  out  Colonel  Fortescue 's  full  dress  uni- 
form and  the  Colonel  fondly  hoped  that  a 
couple  of  inches  he  had  gained  in  girth  were 
concealed  by  the  tailor's  art.  But  Mrs.  For- 
tescue's  quick  eye  discerned  it. 

*'I  declare,  Jack,"  she  cried,  showing  off 
her  own  figure,  as  slim  as  a  girl's,  ''I  shall 
have  to  put  you  on  a  diet  of  lemon  juice  and 
slate  pencils  if  you  keep  on  getting  stout  I'* 

41 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

At  which  the  Colonel  glowered  darkly  and 
Anita,  putting  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
whispered : 

"Never  mind,  dear,  darling  daddy,  I  love 
you  just  the  same." 

Mrs.  Fortescue,  who  would  have  been 
affable  to  the  Evil  One  himself,  smiled  at 
Broussard.  The  Colonel  was  polite  but  not 
effusive,  having  developed  a  rooted  dislike  to 
junior  unmarried  officers  as  soon  as  he  found 
out  that  Anita  had  to  grow  up,  like  other 
human  beings. 

Broussard  felt  himself  in  Paradise  when  he 
was  walking  with  Anita  along  the  moonlit 
plaza  toward  the  riding  hall.  Outside, 
troopers  were  leading  the  restless  horses  up 
and  down.  Pretty  Maid  did  not  belie  her 
name,  and  was  the  best  behaved,  as  she  was 
the  handsomest,  of  all  the  mounts  of  the  young 
ladies.  Broussard 's  Gramechick,  a  perfectly 
trained  cavalry  charger,  with  an  eye  and  ear 
of  beautiful  intelligence,  had  not  his  superior 
among  the  horses.  Sergeant  McGrillicuddy, 
who  was  the  best  man  with  horses  at  Fort 
Blizzard,  was  sauntering  about,  looking  at 
the  horses  approvingly  and  saying  to  all  who 
cared  to  hear : 

**As  good  a  lot  of  nags  as  ever  I  see,  and 
every  blarsted  one  of  'em  has  got  four  legs. 
It's  mighty  seldom  nowadays  you  see  a  four- 
legged  horse ;  most  of  'em  has  only  three  legs 


•NEVBB  mind,  DEAB,  DAEUNO  daddy,  I  LOVE  TOU  JUST  THE  SAME 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

and  some  of  'em  ain't  got  as  much  as  two 
and  a  half." 

The  riders,  all  wearing  the  same  nniform 
as  Broussard  and  Anita,  appeared  by  twos 
and  fours;  bright-eyed  young  oflScers  and 
merry  girls.  Their  part  was  not  to  come  for 
an  hour,  but  they  declared  the  night  was  too 
lovely  to  go  into  the  waiting-room,  and  they 
strolled  about  and  talked  horses  and  dancing 
and  balls  and  all  the  happy  things  that  fall 
out  ''when  youth  and  pleasure  meet." 

In  the  midst  of  the  chatter  of  the  riders 
and  stamping  and  champing  of  the  blanketed 
horses,  as  they  were  led  up  and  down.  Kettle 
suddenly  appeared  carrying  in  his  arms  a 
white  bundle,  which  turned  out  to  be  the  After- 
Clap.  He  should  have  been  asleep  in  his  crib 
for  hours,  but  instead  he  was  wide  awake, 
laughing  and  crowing  and  evidently  meant, 
with  Kettle 's  assistance,  to  make  a  night  of  it. 

''What  do  you  mean,  Kettle,  by  bringing 
the  baby  out  this  time  of  night?"  asked  the 
surprised  Anita. 

' '  I  got  him  all  wropped  up  warm, ' '  answered 
Kettle,  apologetically,  pointing  to  the  After- 
Clap's  white  fur  coat  and  cap.  "But  that 
chile  knowed  there  wuz  a  hoss  show  on — it's 
mighty  little  he  doan'  know,  and  after  the 
Kun'l  and  Miss  Betty  lef ',  he  begin'  to  cry 
for  'Horsey!  Horsey!'  an  I  jes'  had  to  take 
him  up  an '  dress  him  an '  bring  him  here.   An ' 

45 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

that's  Gord's  truth,  Miss  Anita,"  a  phrase 
Kettle  habitually  used  when  making  doubtful 
statements. 

The  baby  was  so  obviously  happy  in  this 
breach  of  all  nursery  discipline  that  Anita  had 
not  the  heart  to  send  him  home.  Anita  was 
a  soft-hearted  creature.  Sergeant  McGilli- 
cuddy,  however,  explained  disgustedly  to  the 
waiting  troopers  and  horses  how  the  After- 
Clap  was  permitted  to  begin  his  career  of 
dissipation. 

''I'll  bet  you  a  million  of  monkeys,"  the 
Sergeant  proclaimed, ' '  as  Missis  McGillicuddy 
wasn't  on  hand  when  that  there  baby  begun 
to  yell '  Horsey !  Horsey ! '  if  he  ever  did  it  at 
all.  With  eight  children  av  her  own  and  Anna 
Mariar's  beau.  Missis  McGrillicuddy  must 
sometimes  stop  at  home.  Lord  help  the  nay- 
gur  if  Missis  McGrillicuddy  should  favor  this 
evint  with  her  pri  since ! ' ' 

The  sympathies  of  the  soldiers  were  en- 
tirely with  the  After-Clap,  who  loved  soldiers, 
knowing  them  to  be  his  true  friends,  and  was 
never  happier  than  with  his  big,  kind,  blue- 
coated  playmates,  the  troopers,  with  their 
rattling  sabres  and  clanking  spurs. 

Sergeant  McGillicuddy,  being  himself  under 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy 's  iron  rule,  did  not  ap- 
prove of  Kettle's  breach  of  discipline  and 
hatched  a  scheme  to  catch  him.  With  a  coun- 
tenance as   inscrutable  as  the   Sphinx,  he 

46 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

stepped  to  the  telephone  booth,  shut  the  door 
carefully,  and  held  a  short  conversation  over 
the  wire  with  Mrs.  McGillicuddy.  When  the 
Sergeant  came  out  of  the  telephone  booth  his 
face  was  not  inscrutable  but  expressed  pure 
human  joy  and  triumph. 

''It's  Missis  McGillicuddy  as  '11  do  for  ye," 
said  the  Sergeant  with  a  grin,  going  up  to 
Kettle,  holding  the  delighted  After-Clap  in 
his  arms. 

"Go  'long,  man,"  answered  Kettle,  "Mrs. 
McGillicuddy  ain't  my  boss.    She's  youm." 

This  language,  uttered  toward  a  man  with 
chevrons  and  three  stripes  on  his  sleeve, 
naturally  incensed  the  Sergeant.  He  had 
learned,  however,  in  twenty  years  of  warfare 
with  Kettle,  that  it  was  very  hard  to  get  him 
punished. 

"The  naygur  never  has  found  out  that 
orders  is  orders,"  remarked  the  Sergeant  to 
the  lookers  on.  ' '  But  Missis  McGillicuddy  can 
wallop  him  with  one  hand  tied  behind  her 
back,  and  she'll  do  it,  too,  when  she  finds  out 
about  the  kiddie  bein'  out  this  time  of  night." 

This  was  no  idle  threat.  Fifteen  minutes 
later,  when  Kettle  and  the  After-Clap  were 
at  the  height  of  their  enjoyment,  Mrs.  Mc- 
Gillicuddy, with  only  a  shawl  over  her  head, 
in  the  keen  December  night,  was  seen  stalk- 
ing across  the  plaza  and  toward  the  group 
of  men  and  horses  outside  the  drill  hall ;  the 

47 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

riders  had  trooped  into  the  waiting-room  for 
coffee  and  sandwiches  before  the  ride  began. 
The  troopers,  who  knew  and  admired  Mrs. 
McGriUicuddy,  made  way  for  her  respectfully 
as  she  swooped  down  on  Kettle,  to  his  com- 
plete surprise. 

' '  Solomon ! ' '  shouted  Mrs.  McGrillicuddy. 

Whenever  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  used  Kettle's 
baptismal  name  it  meant  the  same  thing  as 
when  Colonel  Fortescue  called  Mrs.  Fortescue 
"Elizabeth," — ^there  was  trouble  brewing. 

"And  it's  you,"  continued  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy, in  a  voice  like  a  bassoon  in  a  rage,  "as 
the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  trusted  their 
innocent  lamb,  and  when  they  are  peacefully 
watchin'  the  show  you  take  this  pore  baby 
out  of  his  warm  bed  and  brings  him  out  here 
to  catch  his  death  of  cold,  and  Patrick  Mc- 
Gillicuddy, you  '11  laugh  on  the  wrong  side  of 
your  face  when  I  get  you  home,  and  the  Colonel 
shall  know  this,  if  my  name  is  Araminta 
McGillicuddy." 

"With  that  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  tore  the  After- 
Clap  from  Kettle's  arms.  Like  Kettle  and 
McGillicuddy  and  the  admiring  crowd  of 
troopers,  the  baby  knew  enough  to  maintain 
silence  when  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  had  the  floor. 

"Right  'bout  face  and  march,"  screamed 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  to  Kettle,  who  meekly 
obeyed  her,  "and  McGillicuddy  '11  hear  from 
me  when  he  comes  home  to-night!'* 

48 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

Mrs.  McGillicuddy  then,  with  Kettle  walk- 
ing in  advance,  his  head  hanging  down,  fol- 
lowed with  the  After-Clap  and  took  the  way 
to  the  C.  0.  's  quarters,  where  the  baby,  much 
to  his  disappointment,  was  again  laid  in  his 
crib  and  Kettle  was  promised  terrors  to  come 
like  those  of  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

McGillicuddy,  standing  in  the  moonlight 
among  the  riderless  horses  and  grinning 
troopers,  forestalled  criticism  by  handing  out 
a  card  on  which  a  legend  was  inscribed  in 
large  letters. 

*'Boys,'^  said  the  Sergeant,  solemnly, 
"there's  my  rule  for  all  married  men  in  the 
service  and  out  av  it.  It's  the  Golden  Eule  of 
married  life,  boys,  and  it  ought  to  be  added 
to  the  Articles  of  War  and  the  Eegulations. 
Here  it  is,  boys,  'Doant  munkey  with  the  buzz 
saw.'  " 

Meanwhile,  within  the  vast  riding  hall  the 
splendid  pageant  was  taking  place.  The  lofty 
roof  was  hung  with  flags  of  all  nations  en- 
twined with  ropes  and  wreaths  of  Christmas 
greens  and  crimson  and  gold  electric  lights. 
In  the  middle  of  the  roof,  dark  and  high,  hung 
a  great  silken  flag  of  the  United  States,  with 
the  electric  lights  so  arranged  as  to  throw  a 
halo  of  glory  upon  it.  The  galleries  were  full 
of  officers  and  ladies  in  brilliant  ball  costimies 
for  the  ball  that  was  to  follow.    Under  the 

4  49 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

galleries  the  soldiers  and  their  families  were 
massed.  Over  the  wide  entrance  door  was 
the  musicians'  gallery,  where  the  regimental 
band,  and  Neroda,  their  leader,  a  handsome 
Italian,  with  their  gleaming  instruments,  made 
a  great  splash  of  vivid  color  against  the 
sombre  wall.  Opposite  the  entrance  was  the 
Commanding  Officer 's  box,  beautifully  draped 
with  flags  and  wreaths  of  holly.  In  the  box 
sat  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue,  both  look- 
ing wonderfully  young  and  handsome.  The 
Colonel  caught  sight  of  the  chaplain  peering 
in  at  a  window  below;  the  chaplain  knew  a 
horse  from  an  automobile,  and  loved  horses 
too  much  for  the  good  of  his  soul,  so  he 
thought.  In  a  moment  a  messenger  came  with 
the  Colonel's  compliments  and  the  request  for 
the  chaplain's  company,  and  the  chaplain 
obeyed  with  alacrity  and  a  joy  almost  unholy. 
Above  the  murmur  of  conversation  and 
laughter  the  band  dominated,  playing  soft 
Italian  music.  Suddenly  and  silently,  as  if  in 
a  dream,  the  great  entrance  doors  drew  apart, 
the  band  changed  into  a  great  military  fanfare, 
and  a  splendid  troop  of  cavalry  charged 
in,  the  lithe  young  troopers  and  the  sleek 
horses  with  muscles  of  steel  under  their  satin 
skins,  horse  and  man  moving  as  one.  After  a 
dash  around  the  hall,  they  proceeded  to  show 
what  troopers  and  horses  could  do.  The 
soldiers  rode  bareback  and  upside  down,  got 

so 


A  PRETTY  IVIAID 

on  and  off  the  horses  in  ways  incredible,  made 
pyramids  of  troopers,  the  horses  galloping  at 
full  speed,  stopped  like  machines,  dismounted, 
the  horses  lay  down  and  the  troopers,  at  full 
length,  pounded  out  deadly  imaginary  volleys 
into  unseen  enemies. 

When  this  was  over  and  the  troopers  had 
trotted  out  amid  thunders  of  applause,  the 
great  doors  again  slid  open  as  if  by  magic  and 
a  battery  of  light  artillery  rushed  in,  the  band 
thundering  out  **For  He  Is  a  Son  of  a  Gun." 
The  drivers,  with  four  horses  to  each  gun,  sat 
like  statues,  as  did  the  three  artillerymen, 
erect,  with  folded  arms,  as  straight  and  still 
as  men  of  steel,  and  their  backs  to  the  horses, 
as  the  guns  sped  around  the  hall  and  turned 
and  twisted  marvellously,  never  a  wheel 
touching,  but  always  within  three  inches  of 
disaster.  Loud  applause  greeted  the  wonder- 
ful spectacle  of  gunners,  horses  and  gun 
carriages  inspired  by  an  almost  superhuman 
intelligence. 

When  the  battery  had  passed  out  and  the 
doors  were  closed  there  was  a  short  pause. 
The  next  and  last  event  was  the  music  ride 
by  the  officers  and  girls,  the  prettiest  sight 
in  the  world.  Middle-aged  matrons  and  gray- 
mustached  officers  smiled  in  anticipation  of 
seeing  their  rosebud  daughters,  on  beautiful 
horses,  admired  and  applauded  of  all. 

In  the  C.  0.  's  box,  Mrs.  Fortescue,  opening 
n 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

her  fan,  leaned  over  and  smiled  into  the 
Colonel's  face. 

*'She'll  do  it,"  whispered  the  Colonel  con- 
fidently, meaning  that  Anita  would  do  her  act 
more  gracefully  and  brilliantly  than  any  girl 
who  ever  rode  a  horse. 

The  band  once  more  struck  up,  the  great 
doors  drew  wide  apart,  this  time  with  a  clang, 
and  the  procession  of  youth  and  beauty  and 
valor  dashed  upon  the  tanbark.  The  officers 
were  resplendent,  while  the  girls,  in  their  dar- 
ing imitation  of  the  uniform  and  with  cavalry 
caps  upon  their  pretty  heads,  looked  like 
young  Amazons  riding  to  war.  Broussard 
and  Anita,  who  led  the  cavalcade,  were  the 
best  riders  where  all  were  good.  Pretty  Maid 
and  Gamechick  seemed  on  the  best  of  terms 
and  their  stride  fitted  perfectly. 

The  procession  circled  around  the  hall  at  a 
canter,  and  as  Anita  and  Broussard,  leading 
the  procession,  reached  a  point  in  front  of 
the  C.  0.  's  box,  they  both  saluted,  Anita  rais- 
ing her  little  gauntleted  hand  to  her  cavalry 
cap.  Colonel  Fortescue  stood  up  and  returned 
the  salute  as  the  riders  passed,  two  by  two. 
Next  began  the  scene  of  beautiful  horseman- 
ship, pure  and  simple,  winding  up  with  the 
Virginia  reel,  done  by  the  riders  on  horse- 
back, as  the  band  played  the  old  reel,  ' '  Billy 
in  the  Low  Grrounds." 

Then  came  the  last  feature  of  all ;  the  riders 

52 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

formed  again,  and,  suddenly  quickening  their 
pace  to  a  full  gallop,  started  upon  the  circuit  of 
the  hall.  They  swept  around  the  circle  at  a 
sharp  gallop,  the  clanking  spurs  and  rattling 
sabres  keeping  time  to  the  roar  of  the  music. 
Anita  was  riding  like  a  bird  on  the  wing  and 
Pretty  Maid,  who  had  behaved  with  her  usual 
grace  and  decorum,  opening  and  shutting  her 
stride  like  a  machine.  Just  as  she  got  in  front 
of  the  C.  0.  's  box  the  mare  suddenly  lost  her 
head.  She  hesitated,  bringing  her  four  feet 
together  in  a  way  that  would  have  thrown 
over  her  head  a  rider  less  expert  than  Anita. 
Behind  her  the  line  of  riders  was  thrown  into 
slight  confusion  with  the  unexpected  halt. 

The  movements  of  animals  are  so  much 
quicker  than  those  of  men  that  the  eye  can 
scarcely  follow  them.  One  instant  Anita  was 
in  her  saddle ;  the  next  Pretty  Maid  stopped, 
crouched,  gave  a  wild  spring,  fell  prone  on 
her  knees,  and  rolled  over,  struggling  vio- 
lently. Anita,  half  thrown  and  half  slipped 
from  her  saddle,  was  on  the  tanbark,  directly 
in  front  of  Gramechick. 

She  straightened  out  her  slim  figure  full 
length  and  closed  her  eyes.  Broussard's 
horse  was  then  not  six  feet  away  from  her 
and  coming  on  as  if  the  trumpeters  were 
sounding  the  charge. 

A  great  groan  rose  from  the  floor  and  the 
galleries;  the  band  played  on  wildly,  losing 

53 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

its  perfect  tempo  and  each  musician  playing 
for  himself,  but  still  playing  as  a  band  should 
play  on  in  terrible  crises.  The  line  of  riders 
was  sharply  checked,  the  perfectly  trained 
horsesi  coming  to  a  dead  stop  within  ten  sec- 
onds. In  the  C.  O.'s  box  the  chaplain  was  on 
his  feet,  his  hands  clasped  in  silent  supplica- 
tion; Mrs.  Fortescue,  braver  than  a  brave 
soldier,  put  her  arm  about  her  husband's  neck, 
as  Colonel  Fortescue  swayed  about  in  his  seat 
like  a  drunken  man.  Amid  the  blare  of  the 
band  and  the  riders  and  chargers  almost  upon 
the  struggling  horse  and  motionless  girl,  lying 
on  the  tanbark,  Broussard,  coolly,  as-  if  he  were 
on  the  parade  ground,  lifted  G^amechick  by 
the  bridle,  gave  him  a  touch  of  the  spur,  and 
the  next  moment  cleared  both  mare  and  girl, 
with  twenty  inches  between  Gamechick's  iron- 
shod  hind  hoofs  and  Anita's  beautiful  blonde 
head. 

It  had  all  passed  in  twenty  seconds  by  the 
clock,  but  to  those  who  watched  it  seemed  a 
long  hour  of  agony.  The  moment  the  leap  was 
made,  Anita  sprang  to  her  feet  and  Broussard 
was  on  the  tanbark.  Wild  cheering  almost 
drowned  the  crash  of  the  band;  some  of  the 
women  were  weeping  and  others  laughing 
hysterically,  the  men  cheering  like  madmen. 
Broussard  smilingly  picked  up  Anita's  cav- 
alry cap,  which  had  fallen  on  the  tanbark, 
brushed  it  and  put  it  on  Anita's  pretty  head; 
64, 


BROU88ARD    LIFTED    GAMECHICK   BT   THE    BRIDLE   AND   THE    NEXT  MOMEN- 
CLEARED    BOTH   MARE   AND    GIRL 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

some  words,  unheard  by  others,  passed  be- 
tween them.  The  mare  then  lay  perfectly 
quiet.  Broussard,  amid  the  roar  of  cheers 
and  shouts  and  furious  handclapping  and 
music,  got  the  mare  on  her  feet.  She  stood 
trembling,  frightened  and  ashamed;  Anita 
patted  her  neck  gently  and  rubbed  her  nose 
reassuringly.  Then  Broussard,  taking  the 
girl's  slender  waist  between  his  hands,* swung 
her  into  her  saddle,  himself  mounted,  and,  the 
riders  falling  in  behind,  it  was  as  if  Tragedy 
had  not  showed  her  awful  visage  for  one  fear- 
ful moment. 

All  the  cheering  and  clapping  and  weeping 
and  laughing  and  shouting  that  had  gone  be- 
fore were  nothing  to  what  followed  after,  while 
the  band  played  ''For  He  Is  a  Jolly  Good 
Fellow,"  and  everybody  who  could  sing,  or 
thought  he  could  sing,  joined  in  the  refrain. 
Colonel  Fortescue,  whiter  than  death,  sat 
straight  up  in  his  place.  Mrs.  Fortescue  whis- 
pered in  his  ear : 

"Be  brave, — brave  as  you  were  in  battle." 

Colonel  Fortescue  had  been  in  battle,  but  the 
screaming  shells  and  crash  of  machine  guns 
brought  with  them  no  such  wild  and  shivering 
terror  as  when  he  saw  Gramechick's  forefeet 
in  the  air  over  Anita,  lying  on  the  tanbark. 

The  procession  passed  once  more  around 
the  hall,  Anita's  face  flushed  and  smiling, 
Broussard  outwardly  calm,  but  the  red  blood 

55 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

showing  under  his  dark  skin.  When  they 
reached  the  entrance  doors  and  were  about 
to  ride  out  Sergeant  McGillicuddy  stopped 
Broussard  with  a  word.  The  audience,  watch- 
ing and  smiling,  knew  what  would  happen 
and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  C.  0  's.  box.  In 
a  minute  Broussard,  with  his  cavalry  cap  in 
his  hand,  was  seen  mounting  the  stairs; 
Colonel  Fortescue  rose  and  clasped  Brous- 
sard's  hand,  while  Mrs.  Fortescue  frankly 
kissed  him  on  both  cheeks.  The  band  broke 
loose  again  and  so  did  the  people.  Although 
Fort  Blizzard  was  a  great  fort  it  was  so 
far  away  in  the  frozen  northwest  that  those 
within  its  walls  constituted  one  vast  family. 
Anita  was  known  to  all  of  them,  officers  and 
ladies,  troopers  and  troopers '  wives  and  chil- 
dren, and  the  company  washerwomen,  and  the 
regimental  blacksmiths ;  they  felt  as  if  Brous- 
sard had  saved  the  life  of  a  child  of  their  own. 

Colonel  Fortescue  was  a  soldier  and  recov- 
ered himself  and  walked  bravely  with  Mrs. 
Fortescue  in  the  moonlight  to  their  quarters, 
Broussard  and  Anita  riding  ahead  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened,  when  everything  had  hap- 
pened. At  the  door  Broussard  left  Anita; 
both  had  to  dress  for  the  ball. 

In  the  office,  his  City  of  Refuge,  Colonel 
Fortescue  sat  in  his  chair  and  trembled  like  a 
leaf.  Mrs.  Fortescue,  with  tender  words  and 
soft  caresses,  comforted  him. 

56 


A  PRETTY  IVIAID 

**Stay  with  me,  dear  wife,"  he  said,  **I  tell 
you  as  truly  as  if  I  were  this  moment  facing  a 
firing  squad  that  I  never  knew  what  fear  was 
until  this  night,  and  yet  I  thought  I  knew  it 
and  could  feel  my  heart  quivering  as  I  cheered 
my  men  to  the  charge.  Betty,  I  love  our  child 
too  much,  too  much!" 

*'No,"  said  Mrs.  Fortescue,  kissing  his 
cheek,  ''you  don't  love  her  half  as  much  as 
you  love  me.  Suppose  I  had  been  there  in 
our  child's  place." 

The  Colonel  put  his  arm  over  his  face. 

''Don't,  Betty — I  can't  bear  it,"  he  cried. 

"But  you  must  bear  it;  you  must  go  to  the 
ball  in  twenty  minutes." 

The  Colonel,  with  bewildered  eyes,  looked  at 
her  as  if  to  ask  what  were  balls,  and  where? 

Mrs.  Fortescue  said  no  more.  Presently 
they  heard  Anita's  light  step  on  the  stairs. 
She  flitted  into  the  ofl&ce  and  looked,  in  her 
ball  gown  of  shimmering  white,  as  pure  and 
sweet  as  one  of  her  white  doves. 

"I'm  ready  for  the  ball,  dad,"  she  said, 
smiling  and  kissing  the  Colonel  and  her 
mother,  "I  am  a  soldier's  daughter,  and  I 
can't  let  a  little  thing  keep  me  from  my  duty — 
which  is,  to  go  to  the  ball." 

Colonel  Fortescue  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"What  a  spirit!"  he  cried  brokenly,  "You 
have  the  making  of  ten  soldiers  in  you,  my 
daughter,  my  little  daughter!" 

67 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Mrs.  Fortescue  rose  and  drew  her  beantiful 
evening  cloak  around  her.  Colonel  Fortescue 
noticed  for  the  first  time  how  pale  she  was, 
but  there  was  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  the  fine 
light  of  courage  in  her  eye ;  it  was  partly  from 
her  that  Anita  inherited  her  brave  spirit. 

Colonel  Fortescue  rose,  too;  he  could  not 
be  less  brave  than  his  wife  and  daughter. 
Anita  kissed  him  tenderly;  a  soft-hearted  de- 
serter always  takes  an  affectionate  leave  of 
his  comrades  when  he  is  about  to  desert. 

At  the  ball  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue 
were  composed,  smiling,  graceful ;  Anita  was 
less  shy,  more  laughing  than  usual.  When 
Broussard  entered  the  ball-room  he  was 
greeted  with  a  great  roar  of  applause,  and 
when  he  danced  the  first  dance  with  Anita 
once  more  there  was  applause  and  something 
in  the  eyes  of  the  smiling,  handclapping  crowd 
that  brought  the  ever-ready  color  into  Anita's 
delicately  lovely  face.  It  was  a  beautiful  ball, 
as  all  military  balls  are,  and  lasted  late. 
When  the  C.  0.  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  and  Anita 
got  home  it  was  Christmas  morning,  and  the 
stars  that  led  the  Magi  to  the  crib  at  Bethle- 
hem were  shining  gloriously  in  the  blue-black 
sky. 

At  daybreak  began  the  hullabaloo  which 
attends  Christmas  morning  in  a  house  where 
there  is  an  adored  child,  and  only  one.    The 

58 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

After-Clap,  with  the  preternatural  knowledge 
claimed  for  him  by  Kettle,  knew  that  it  was 
Christmas  morning  and  a  day  of  riot  and 
license  for  him. 

At  an  early  hour  he  began  to  storm  the 
earth  and  stun  the  air.  There  was  a  Christ- 
mas tree  for  him  and  for  the  eight  McGilli- 
cuddies,  and  the  day  was  so  full  that  Mrs. 
Fortescue  found  it  hard  to  get  time  in  which 
to  give  Kettle  the  necessary  wigging  for  tak- 
ing the  baby  from  his  bed  and  carrying  him 
out  of  doors  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening 
because  he  waked  up  and  said  ' '  Horsey. ' '  In 
vain  Kettle  pleaded  ^'fo'  Gord — "  always  a 
forerunner  of  a  tarradiddle — that  he  "didn't 
have  no  notion  on  the  blessed  yearth  as  Miss 
Betty  would  mind, ' '  and  also  wept  copiously 
when  Mrs.  Fortescue  frankly  told  him  that  he 
was  a  tarradiddler,  and  made,  for  the  hun- 
dredth time,  a  very  awful  threat  to  Kettle. 

"But  I  can  tell  you  this  much,"  she  said, 
with  great  severity,  "that  if  you  keep  on 
doing  everything  the  baby  tells  you  to  do,  I 
will  buy  you  a  ticket  back  to  Virginia  and 
send  you  home.    Do  you  understand  me  ? ' ' 

At  this,  a  smile  rivalling  a  rainbow  suddenly 
overspread  Kettle's  face  and  his  mouth  came 
open  like  an  alligator's. 

"Lord,  yes,  I  understand  you.  Miss  Betty," 
Kettle  replied,  with  a  chuckle.  *  *  I  knows  when 
you  is  bullyraggin'  me  an'  say  you  is  goin* 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

to  sen*  me  back  to  Virginia,  you  is  jes'  jokin'. 
You  done  tole  me  that  too  oftin,  Miss  Betty, 
an'  you  ain't  never  give  me  no  ticket  yet,  an' 
'tain't  no  thin'  but  a  sign  you  is  comin'  roun', 
Miss  Betty." 

Kettle's  grin  was  so  seductive  and  his  rea- 
soning so  correct  that  Mrs.  Fortescue  suddenly 
laughed,  too ;  there  was  no  way  short  of  put- 
ting Kettle  in  handcuffs  and  leg-irons  to  keep 
him  from  obeying  the  After-Clap,  whose 
orders  were  orders  to  Kettle. 

In  the  afternoon  Colonel  Fortescue,  sitting 
in  his  office,  from  which  not  even  Christmas 
Day  exempted  him,  saw,  a  long  way  off,  down 
by  the  non-coms'  quarters,  a  pitiful  sight. 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  had  carried  out  her  menace 
to  put  a  buggy  in  the  Sergeant's  Christmas 
stocking.  The  buggy  was  at  the  Sergeant's 
door,  and  in  it  sat  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  elabo- 
rately dressed,  a  picture  hat  and  feathers  on 
her  carefully  frizzed  hair  and  her  voluminous 
draperies  nearly  swamping  the  little  Sergeant, 
cowering  in  the  comer  of  the  buggy.  To  it 
was  hitched  the  milkman's  mare,  which  was 
about  as  big  as  a  large  rabbit  and  owned  up  to 
twenty-three  years  of  age  and  the  name  of 
Dot.  The  equipage  passed  out  of  sight  but 
in  an  hour  was  seen  returning.  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy  sat  majestically  upright  in  the  buggy, 
while  the  Sergeant  bestrode  the  peaceful  and 
amiable  Dot. 

60 


MRS.  McanUCUDDT  SAT  MAJESTICAIJiT 
UPRIGHT  IN  THE  BUGaT,  WHILE  THE  SER- 
GEANT BESTRODE  THE  PEACEFUIi  AND 
AMIABLE  DOT 


A  PRETTY  MAID 

Presently  the  Sergeant,  looking  much  wilted 
and  depressed,  entered  the  Colonel's  office. 

"Did  you  enjoy  your  drive  in  the  new 
buggy,  Sergeant?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

**No,  sir,"  replied  the  Sergeant,  earnestly, 
''this  has  been  a  awful  Christmas  day  to 
me.  I  didn't  think  as  Missis  McGillicuddy 
would  play  me  such  a  low  trick  as  to  give 
me  the  buggy  and  then  make  me  ride  it.  it. 
She  said  as  the  milkman  told  her  he  had  owned 
the  mare  fir  thirteen  years,  and  she  wasn't 
young  when  he  bought  her;  but  I  reminded 
her  as  thirteen  was  a  unlucky  number.  But 
Missis  McGillicuddy  acted  heartless  and  give 
orders  as  I  was  to  mount  that  buggy.  I 
pleadid  with  her,  sir,  not  to  risk  my  life,  for 
the  sake  of  the  eight  children,  even  if  she 
didn't  have  no  love  or  affection  for  me.  I 
reminded  her  as  she'd  stand  a  divil  of  a 
chanst  of  gettin'  married  again,  havin'  all 
them  eight  children.  I  told  her  the  aviation 
orficer  had  promised  to  take  me  flyin'  with 
him  to-morrow  momin',  and  if  I  lost  my  life 
in  a  wheeled  vehicle  there 'd  be  no  more  flyin* 
fir  me  because  I  don't  look  to  be  a  angel  im- 
mediate I  get  into  the  next  world.  All  she 
says  to  me  was,  like  she  was  a  Sergeant  Major 
and  I  was  a  recruity,  'You  get  into  this  buggy, 
Patrick  McGillicuddy.*  So,  as  orders  is 
orders,  sir,  I  got  in,  and  I  stayed  in  until  my 
fears  of  that  horse's  hind  feet  right  under 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

my  nose  got  the  better  of  my  duty  to  Missis 
McGillicuddy,  as  my  superior  orficer.  I  begun 
to  feel  hollow  inside,  like  a  man  feels  when 
he's  ordered  into  action  and  the  artillery  is 
ploughing  up  the  ground  with  shells.  Then, 
sir,  I  mutinied.  I  jumped  out  of  that  damned 
buggy — excuse  me,  sir — and  I  got  on  the  back 
of  the  mare  and  felt  jist  as  safe  as  if  I  was 
riding  old  Corporal,  the  horse  we  gives  the 
recruits  to  ride.  I've  escaped  the  dangers  of 
that  buggy  and  there  won't  be  no  vacancy  in 
my  grade  yet  awhile  from  ridin'  in  wheeled  ve- 
hicles. An  I  'm  goin '  flyin '  tomorrow  in  a  nice 
safe  aeroplane  that's  got  a  man  hitched  to  it 
and  not  a  horse.  This  ain't  been  no  merry 
Christmas  to  me,  sir.  And  if  Missis  McGilli- 
cuddy holds  a  reg'lar  court  of  inquiry  on  me, 
as  she  does  seven  nights  in  the  week,  I'm  a' 
goin'  to  stand  on  my  rights  and  swear  by  the 
jumpin'  Moses  I'll  never  set  foot  again  in 
that  damned,  infernal,  hellish  buggy,  sir, — 
excuse  me,  sir." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HEART  OF  A  MAH) 

When  the  wild  and  iJirobbing  excitement 
of  the  evening  was  over,  the  fear,  the  horror, 
the  joy,  the  triumph,  the  exulting  exhilara- 
tion, Broussard,  smoking  his  last  cigar  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  felt  a  little  ashamed 
of  himself.  After  all,  Anita  was  little  more 
than  a  child,  being  but  seventeen,  and  it  was 
hardly  fair  to  her  that  he  should  try  to  chain 
her  young  feet  and  blindfold  her  young  eyes 
before  she  had  seen  the  great  moving  picture 
of  the  world.  Broussard  did  not  in  the  least 
remember  what  he  said  to  Anita  when  he  was 
putting  her  cap  on  her  head,  nor  even  the 
words  in  which  she  had  replied ;  he  only  knew 
that  they  were  burning  words  that  came  from 
the  heart  and  spoke  through  the  eyes  as  well 
as  the  tongue.  But  a  man.  was  not  always  mas- 
ter of  himself.  Broussard  had  a  good  many 
plausible  excuses  to  urge  for  himself,  and  was 
always  a  good  barker  for  Victor  Broussard, 
and  Anita  was  so  charming,  she  had  so  much 
more  sense  than  the  average  seventeen-year- 
old  fledgling,  she  was  so  obviously  more  de- 
veloped mentally  and  emotionally  for  her  age, 
she  had  grown  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  ten- 
derness and  happiness,  for  everybody  knew 

5  6& 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

that  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  were  still 
like  lovers,  after  twenty  years  of  married  life. 
Broussard  fell  into  a  delicious  reverie  that 
lasted  until  he  heard  the  clang  of  the  chang- 
ing sentries  at  two  o  'clock  in  the  morning. 

The  Christmas  gaieties  went  on  for  a  fort- 
night, including  another  big  ball  given  by  the 
officers.  Colonel  Fortescue  brought  upon  him- 
self many  maledictions  from  the  junior  officers 
by  the  way  in  which  he  regulated  these  balls. 
The  Colonel  was  neither  bashful  nor  back- 
ward with  his  young  officers,  and  he  liked 
them  to  dance,  bearing  in  mind  the  saying  of  a 
great  commander  that  a  part  of  every  soldier's 
equipment  is  gaiety  of  heart ;  but  he  was 
grimly  particular  about  the  kind  of  dancing 
that  took  place  at  Fort  Blizzard.  Before 
every  ball.  Colonel  Fortescue 's  aide,  Con- 
way, a  serious  young  lieutenant,  delivered  the 
Colonel's  orders  that  there  was  to  be  no  tan- 
going or  turkey-trotting  or  chicken-reeling  or 
**Here  Comes  My  Daddy"  business  in  that 
ball-room.  Moreover,  Neroda,,  the  band- 
master, had  orders  if  any  of  these  dances, 
abhorred  of  the  Colonel's  heart,  were  started 
the  music  was  to  stop  immediately.  Colonel 
Fortescue  himself,  by  way  of  setting  an  ex- 
ample, would  do  a  sedate  waltz  with  some 
matron  of  the  post,  or  select  a  rosebud  girl 
for  a  solemn  set  of  lancers  quadrilles.  Mrs. 
Fortescue  still  held  the  palm  as  the  prettiest 

66 


THE  HEART  OF  A  IVIAID 

waltzer  at  the  post,  none  the  less  gay  for 
being  dignified.  However,  the  young  people, 
except  Anita,  revenged  themselves  on  the  C.  0. 
by  doing,  in  their  own  drawing-rooms,  all  the 
prohibited  dances.  With  Anita,  nothing  could 
have  induced  her  to  do  anything  forbidden 
by  the  beloved  of  her  heart — a  trait  not  with- 
out its  dangers. 

Broussard  was  treated  as  a  hero  by  every- 
body at  the  post  and  enjoyed  it  extremely, 
in  spite  of  his  deprecation  of  all  praise  and 
declaring  that  Gamechick  was  the  real  hero. 

Among  the  festivities  was  a  big  dinner 
given  at  the  C.  0.  's  fine  quarters  to  the  officers 
of  high  rank  at  the  fort,  and  as  a  special  com- 
pliment Broussard  was  invited,  the  only 
bachelor  officer  except  the  serious  Conway, 
Colonel  Fortescue's  aide,  who  classified 
Anita  with  the  After-Clap  in  point  of  age. 

Broussard  had  met  Anita  and  danced  with 
her  many  times  that  fortnight  but,  with  native 
good  taste,  he  avoided  thrusting  himself  upon 
her.  She  was  so  calm,  so  well  poised,  that 
Broussard  concluded  she  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  words  spoken  under  the  influence 
of  the  near  presence  of  love  and  death.  In 
truth,  Anita  had  forgotten  nothing,  but  had 
suddenly  become  a  woman  in  those  few  days. 
Always  Broussard  had  wakened  her  girlish 
admiration  by  his  charm  of  manner,  his  sly 
impudence,  his  way  of  singing  love  songs; 

67 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

and  her  eyes  followed  liim,  while  she  turned 
away  from.  him.  But  she  knew  exactly  what 
Broussard  had  said  to  her  while  they  stood 
on  the  tanibark  and  she  blushed  to  herself  at 
the  answer  that  came  involuntarily  to  her  lips. 
She  knew  no  more  of  actual  love-making  than 
the  After-Clap,  but  she  was  an  inveterate 
reader  of  poetry  and  romance,  and  had  not 
studied  the  poets  and  romancists  for  nothing. 
Perhaps  Broussard  would  say  more  to  her — at 
that  thought  a  lovely  light  came  into  Anita's 
innocent  eyes.  Perhaps  he  had  forgotten 
everything.  Then  Anita 's  eyes  were  troubled. 
The  pride  of  maidenhood  was  bom,  as  it 
should  be,  with  love,  and  Anita  no  longer  ran 
to  the  window  to  see  Broussard,  but  when  he 
was  present  he  filled  the  room;  when  he  spoke 
she  heard  no  other  voice  than  his. 

Colonel  Fortescue  had  a  theory  which  came 
amazingly  true  in  his  own  daughter.  It  was, 
that  in  high  altitudes,  with  mountain  ranges 
and  vast  frozen  rivers  shutting  out  the  rest 
of  the  world,  the  emotions  become  preter- 
naturally  acute ;  that  human  beings  grew  more 
tragic  or  more  comic,  according  to  their  bent, 
and  were  closer  to  primeval  men  and  women 
than  they  knew.  So  it  was  at  Fort  Blizzard, 
standing  grimly  watchful  over  the  world  of 
snow  and  ice  and  holding  within  its  limits  all 
the  struggle  and  striving  and  love,  and 
laughter  and  dancing,  and  the  weeping  and 

68 


THE  HEART  OF  A  IVIAID 

working  and  resting,  and  tlie  hazards  and  the 
triumphs  of  human  life.  On  the  aviation  plain 
men  daily  played  a  fearful  game  with  destiny, 
the  stakes  being  human  lives,  while  the  young 
officers,  when  not  flying  toward  the  sun,  were 
dancing  every  evening  with  the  dainty  girls, 
in  little  muslin  frocks  that  made  them  look 
like  white  butterflies. 

Broussard,  owing  to  a  slight  defect  of 
vision,  was  not  in  the  aviation  corps,  but,  like 
Sergeant  McGillicuddy,  he  would  fly  whenever 
he  had  an  invitation  from  Lawrence,  the 
gentleman-ranker  with  whom  Broussard  was 
seen  too  often  to  please  Colonel  Fortescue. 
Lawrence  had  a  pale,  fragile,  handsome  wife, 
like  himself,  of  another  class  than  the  honest 
soldiers  and  their  buxom  wives,  and  there 
was  a  little  boy,  Ronald,  who  looked  like  a 
young  prince — a  beautiful  boy,  much  noticed 
by  all  who  knew  him.  The  soldiers  forgot 
their  grudge  against  Lawrence  for  what  they 
called  his  "uppish  airs,"  and  the  soldiers' 
wives  forewent  their  objections  to  Mrs.  Law- 
rence and  her  aloofness  from  them,  when  the 
boy,  Ronald,  appeared.  The  officers,  and  their 
wives,  too,  had  a  kind  word  for  the  little  fel- 
low, so  handsome  and  well-mannered,  and  es- 
pecially was  he  a  favorite  with  Broussard.  It 
was,  indeed,  more  than  friendly  favor  toward 
the  child;  Broussard  was  conscious  of  a 
strong  affection  for  the  boy,  about  whom  there 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

was  something  mysteriously  appealing  to 
Brous&ard,  an  expression  in  the  frank  young 
eyes,  a  soft  beauty  in  the  boy's  smile,  that 
reminded  Broussard  of  something  loved  and 
lost,  but  he  knew  not  what  it  was  nor  whence 
it  came.  Anita,  although  knowing  nothing  of 
the  gentleman-ranker  and  his  wife  and  the 
handsome  boy  except  that,  obviously,  they 
were  unlike  their  neighbors  and  fellows  in 
the  married  men's  quarters,  yet  always  ob- 
served them  with  curiosity.  Their  unlikeness 
to  their  station  in  life  was  of  itself  a  mystery, 
and  consequently  of  interest.  Mrs.  Fortescue, 
the  soul  of  kindness  to  the  soldiers'  wives  and 
children,  could  make  nothing  of  Mrs.  Law- 
rence, who  withdrew  into  herself  at  Mrs.  For- 
tescue 's  approach,  and  Mrs.  Fortescue,  seeing 
that  Mrs.  Lawrence  wished  to  hold  aloof, 
respected  her  wishes,  and  from  sheer  pity 
left  her  alone.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  was  not 
so  considerate,  and  told  thrilling  tales  of 
rebuffs  administered  by  Mrs.  Lawrence  to 
corporals'  wives,  and  even  sergeants'  wives 
who  were  willing  to  notice  her  and  get  snubbed 
for  their  good  intentions. 

**Mr.  Broussard  is  the  only  man  Mrs.  Law- 
rence gives  a  decent  word  to,"  said  Mrs.  Mc- 
Gillicuddy in  Anita's  hearing,  ''When  she 
meets  him  anywhere,  walkin'  about,  she  stops 
and  smiles  and  talks  to  him  as  if  she  was  the 
Colonel 's  lady — that  she  does,  the  minx !  And 

70 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

she  pretending  to  be  so  meek  and  mild  and 
not  looking  at  any  man,  except  that  good-for- 
nothing,  handsome  husband  of  hers!  Just 
watch  her,  stoppin'  in  the  post  trader's  to 
talk  with  Mr.  Broussard,  she  so  haughty-like, 
and  carryin'  her  own  bundles  home,  like  she 
was  doin'  herself  a  favor ! " 

This  sank  deep  into  Anita's  mind,  as  did 
every  word  referring  to  Broussard.  But  she 
could  make  nothing  of  it ;  and  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
the  soldier's  wife,  became  at  once  an  object 
of  interest,  of  mystery,  almost  of  jealousy,  to 
Anita.  The  little  boy  she  noticed,  as  did  all 
who  saw  him,  and  like  everybody  else,  she  was 
won  by  him. 

The  morning  of  the  great  dinner  at  the  For- 
tescues',  Neroda,  the  Italian  band-master, 
came  to  give  Anita  her  violin  lesson.  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  listening  and  delighted  with 
Anita's  progress,  came  in  to  the  drawing- 
room  as  Neroda  was  shouting  bravos  in  rap- 
ture over  the  way  his  best  pupil  caught  the 
soul  of  music  in  her  delicate  hands  and  made 
it  prisoner. 

'* Good-morning,  Mr.  Neroda,"  said  Mrs. 
Fortescue  in  her  pretty  and  affable  manner — 
Mrs.  Fortescue  would  have  been  affable  with 
an  ogre — *  *  I  must  ask  you  to  come  this  evening 
and  play  my  daughter's  accompaniments.  We 
are  having  a  large  dinner  and  I  should  like 
Anita  to  play  for  us  after  dinner. ' ' 

71 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

"Certainly,  madam,"  answered  Neroda, 
who,  like  everybody  else,  was  anxious  to  do 
Mrs.  Fortescue's  smiling  bidding,  ''I  am 
proud  of  the  signorina's  playing." 

"Mr.  Broussard  is  coming  to  the  dinner," 
continued  Mrs.  Fortescue  after  a  moment. 
"He  sings  so  charmingly.  It  would  be  de- 
lightful to  have  him  sing  and  Anita  to  play  a 
violin  obligato." 

"Admirable!  Admirable!"  cried  Neroda, 
"Mr.  Broussard  has  a  superb  voice — ^much 
too  good  for  an  amateur. ' ' 

Mrs.  Fortescue  laughed;  Broussard 's  beau- 
tiful voice  was  one  of  the  Colonel 's  grave  ob- 
jections to  him.  Anita  remained  silent,  but 
Mrs.  Fortescue  noticed  the  happy  smile  on 
her  lips,  as  she  picked  a  little  air  upon  the 
strings;  she  longed  to  show  off  her  accom- 
plishments before  Broussard  and  to  accom- 
pany his  singing  seemed  a  little  incursion  into 
Paradise. 

It  was  arranged  that  Neroda  should  come 
at  half -past  nine  and  have  the  violin  tuned. 
Anita,  dropping  the  violin,  found  a  book  of 
songs,  some  of  which  she  had  heard  Broussard 
sing. 

"Come,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "I  must  play 
these  obligatos  over.  You  will  sing  the  songs. ' ' 

Neroda  sat  down  once  more  to  the  piano 
and  played  and  sang  in  a  queer,  cracked  voice, 
the  songs,  while  Anita,  her  soul  in  her  eyes 

72 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

and  all  her  heart  and  strength  in  her  bow  arm, 
played  the  vioYm  part.  She  did  it  beautifully, 
and  Mrs.  Fortescue  kissed  the  girl's  glowing 
cheek  when  the  music  was  through.  Kettle, 
who  was  himself  a  fiddler,  at  that  moment 
poked  his  head  in  at  the  door.  He  had  a  fel- 
low artist's  jealousy  of  Neroda  but  he  was 
forced  by  his  artistic  conscience  to  say : 

''Lord,  Miss  'Nita,  you  cert'ny  kin  make  a 
fiddle  talk!" 

It  was  noon  before  the  lesson  was  over  and 
Neroda  left.  Anita,  exultant  in  the  thought 
of  playing  to  Broussard's  singing,  could  not 
remain  indoors,  but  putting  on  her  long,  dark 
fur  coat  and  her  pretty  fur  cap,  which  accen- 
tuated her  delicate  beauty,  went  out  for  a  walk 
alone. 

Beyond  the  limits  of  the  great  post,  was 
a  long,  straight  promenade,  bordered  with 
stately  young  fir  trees,  and  as  it  led  to  nowhere, 
was  in  general  a  solitary  place.  It  was  here 
that  Anita  loved  to  walk  alone.  The  only  ob- 
jection to  the  place  was  that  it  gave  upon  the 
aviation  field — a  place  abhorred  by  all  the 
women  at  the  fort,  from  the  Colonel's  lady 
down  to  the  company  laundresses.  Anita 
always  turned  her  face  away  from  the  avia- 
tion field  when  she  was  walking  under  the 
pine  trees. 

The  short  way  to  the  walk  led  by  the  big 
red  brick  barracks  of  the  married  soldiers. 

73 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Anita  knew  many  of  these  soldiers'  wives, 
honest  and  hard-working  women,  doing  their 
duty  as  if  they  were  themselves  soldiers.  As 
Anita  passed  along  many  of  them,  stand- 
ing in  their  doorways  or  carrying  laundry 
baskets  along  the  street,  gave  her  a  kindly 
greeting.  In  one  doorway  stood  Mrs.  Law- 
rence, tall,  young,  darkly  beautiful,  and  look- 
ing las  if  she  might  have  been  a  C.  O.  's  daughter 
instead  of  being  a  private  soldier's  wife. 
Mrs.  Lawrence  was  so  at  odds  with  her  sur- 
roundings that  Anita,  unconsciously,  looked 
questioningly  at  her.  She  stood,  shading  her 
eyes  from  the  glare  of  the  snow  and  the  sun, 
gazing  anxiously  toward  the  aviation  field. 
It  was  a  flying  day,  and  the  hearts  of  the 
women  at  Fort  Blizzard  had  no  rest  or  peace 
on  those  days.  Anita  could  not  but  see  that 
Mrs.  Lawrence's  hands,  browned  and  hard- 
ened with  work,  were  small  and  delicately 
formed,  and  that  the  poise  of  the  head,  the 
fine  contours,  were  not  those  of  a  woman  bred 
to  toil. 

It  was  not  quite  time  for  the  ascent  and  the 
officers  were  not  yet  on  the  field,  although  there 
were  a  dozen  or  two  soldiers  and  civilian  em- 
ployes standing  about  the  sheds  in  the  middle 
of  the  plain,  and  working  with  the  huge  ma- 
chines, dragged  from  their  shelter.  Afar  off, 
the  voices  of  the  soldiers,  singing  a  service 
song,  were  borne  upon  the  crystal  clear  air. 

74 


They  were  trolling  out  the  song  as  if  there 
were  no  more  risks  in  aviation  than  in  tennis. 

We  don't  know  what  we're  here  for, 
We  don't  know  why  we're  sent, 

But  we've  brought  a  few  unlimbered  guns 
By  way  of  com-pli-ment. 

Anita  walked  quickly  out  of  the  entrance, 
keeping  her  eyes  well  away  from  the  flying 
field.  It  was  a  good  half  mile  along  the  fir 
tree  walk,  and  Anita  made  it  twice.  The 
music  was  throbbing  still  in  her  veins  and 
the  thought  of  playing  to  Broussard's  singing 
had  in  it  an  intoxication  for  her  innocent 
heart.  She  heard  the  whirring  and  clapping 
of  the  great  aircraft  above  her  head  as 
they  flitted  across  the  face  of  the  sun,  but 
Anita  would  not  look;   she  hated  aircraft 

7« 


I' 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

and  wished  they  had  never  been  invented.  But 
she  was  forced  to  look  when  she  heard  cries 
and  shouts,  as  one  of  the  great  machines  be- 
gan to  reel  about  wildly  in  the  air,  when  it 
was  only  twenty  feet  from  the  earth,  and  then 
came  down,  with  a  crash,  upon  the  snow.  She 
saw  Broussard  standing  on  the  ground ;  he  was 
in  uniform,  with  his  heavy  cavalry  overcoat 
around  him,  and  he  was  working  with  the  men 
to  drag  the  aviator  from  the  machine.  They 
got  him  out,  and  putting  him  on  a  stretcher, 
began  to  run  with  their  burden  toward  the 
hospital.  Anita  turned  her  eyes  away.  She 
did  not  see  Mrs.  Lawrence  run  out  of  the 
entrance  toward  the  field,  her  head  bare  in  the 
icy  cold,  and  no  cloak  around  her  delicate 
shoulders.  Broussard  turned  to  meet  her,  and 
taking  off  his  cavalry  overcoat,  put  it  around 
the  shivering  woman,  and  half  led  and  half 
carried  her  as  they  followed  the  stretcher. 
Then  Anita  knew  it  was  Lawrence  who  was 
hurt. 

Within  the  entrance  there  was  an  excited 
group  of  soldiers'  wives.  Some  said  that 
Lawrence  was  only  slightly  hurt ;  others  that 
every  bone  in  his  body  was  broken.  The  chap- 
lain, passing  along,  reassured  them. 

** Nothing  but  a  few  bruises  and  scratches," 
he  said.  ' '  I  asked  the  surgeon  if  I  was  needed 
and  he  told  me  there  was  nothing  doing  in 
my  line;  I  am  going  to  the  hospital  though, 

76 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

to  see  the  man's  wife — it  is  Mrs.  Lawrence. 
Good  afternoon,  Anita.  Now  don't  let  this 
trifling  accident  break  your  little  heart.  It's 
nothing,  I  tell  you." 

Anita  passed  on,  her  face  pale  in  spite  of 
the  chaplain's  words.  The  picture  of  Brous- 
sard  folding  his  cape  around  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
shoulders  was  strangely  photographed  upon 
her  mind.    She  wished  she  had  not  seen  it. 

Whenever  there  was  an  accident,  however 
small,  on  the  aviation  field  the  whole  post  was 
anxious  and  quivering.  Colonel  Fortescue 
and  Anita  were  both  silent  and  preoccupied  at 
luncheon,  and  Mrs.  Fortescue,  who  never  lost 
her  brave  cheerfulness,  tried  to  interest  them 
in  the  dinner  that  was  to  be  given  that  even- 
ing, and  Anita's  music,  but  without  much 
success. 

' '  I  declare.  Jack, ' '  cried  Mrs.  Fortescue,  * '  if 
I  only  knew  the  aviation  days  in  advance  I 
Avould  never  arrange  a  dinner  on  one  of  those 
days.  You  are  as  solemn  as  a  mute  at  a 
funeral,  and  Anita  always  looks  like  a  ghost 
when  she  has  been  out  to  the  aviation  field. 
For  my  part,  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  see  the 
aviation  field  nor  even  to  think  about  it. ' ' 

''But  you  say  a  great  many  prayers  on 
aviation  days,"  replied  Colonel  Fortescue, 
smiling. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  admitted  this,  but  reminded 

77 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

her  husband  that  she  believed  in  keeping  a 
stiff  spirit. 

**The  man  Lawrence  is  not  nmch  hurt/* 
said  Colonel  Fortescue.  ''He  wanted  to  be 
taken  to  his  quarters  where  his  wife  could 
nurse  him,  and  the  surgeon  allowed  it,  after 
dressing  his  cuts  and  bruises." 

Anita  still  looked  so  grave  that  Colonel  For- 
tescue said  to  her : 

"How  about  a  ride  this  afternoon,  Anita? 
"We  can  get  back  in  time  for  you  to  dress  for 
the  dinner." 

"Do  go,  Anita,"  urged  Mrs.  Fortescue 
plaintively,  "it  is  such  a  relief  to  have  your 
father  out  of  the  house  when  I  am  arranging 
for  a  dinner  of  twenty-four." 

It  was  one  of  the  great  treats  of  Anita's 
simple  life  to  ride  with  her  father  and  the 
proposition  brought  a  smile,  at  last,  into  her 
serious  face. 

.  "At  four,  then,"  said  the  Colonel,  rising 
to  return  to  the  headquarters  building,  while 
Anita  ran  to  get  his  cap,  and  Mrs.  Fortescue 
fastened  his  military  cape  around  him,  and 
his  gloves  were  brought  by  the  After-Clap, 
who  had  been  drilled  in  this  duty.  The 
Colonel  was  well  coddled,  and  liked  it. 

Anita  practised  on  her  violin  nearly  the 
whole  afternoon,  and,  not  satisfied  with  that, 
sent  a  message  to  Neroda  asking  him  to  come 
at  six  o'clock,  when  she  would  have  returned 

78 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

from  her  ride,  and  rehearse  with  her  once 
more  the  obligatos  she  was  to  play  to  Brous- 
sard's  singing. 

Anita's  spirits  rose  as  she  rode  by  her 
father's  side  in  the  biting  cold  of  the  wintry 
afternoon.  They  both  loved  these  rides  to- 
gether and  the  long  talks  they  had  then.  The 
time  was,  when  Colonel  Fortescue  felt  that  he 
knew  every  thought  in  Anita's  mind,  but  not 
so  any  longer.  He  began  to  speak  of  Brous- 
sard,  to  try  and  search  Anita's  mind  on  that 
subject,  but  Anita  remained  absolutely  silent. 
The  Colonel's  heart  sank ;  Anita  was  certainly 
growing  up,  and  had  secrets  of  her  own. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  the  Colonel  and 
Anita  cantered  through  the  lower  entrance, 
the  short  way  to  the  C.  0.  's  house.  One  door 
alone  was  open  in  the  long  row  of  red  brick 
barracks.  The  electric  light  in  the  passage- 
way fell  full  upon  the  figures  of  Broussard 
and  Mrs.  Lawrence  as  the  woman  impulsively 
put  her  hand  on  Broussard 's  shoulder;  he 
gently  removed  it  and  walked  quickly  out  of 
the  door.  Under  the  glare  of  a  street  lamp  he 
came  face  to  face  with  Colonel  Fortescue. 

An  officer  visiting  the  wife  of  a  private 
soldier  is  not  a  thing  to  be  excused  by  a  strict 
Colonel,  and  Colonel  Fortescue  was  very 
strict,  and  had  Argus  eyes  in  the  bargain. 

Broussard  saluted  the  Colonel  and  bowed 
to  Anita  and  passed  on.     The  Colonel  re- 

79 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

turned  the  salute  but  Anita  was  too  startled 
to  acknowledge  the  bow.  When  they  reached 
the  Commandant's  house  and  Colonel  Fortes- 
cue  swung  Anita  from  her  saddle  she  walked 
into  the  house  slowly,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground.  At  the  door  the  After-Clap  met  her 
with  a  shout,  but  instead  of  a  romp  with  his 
grown-up  playmate,  he  received  only  an  ab- 
sent-minded kiss.  Almost  at  the  same  moment 
Neroda  walked  into  the  hall. 

''Here  I  am,  Signorina,"  he  said,  ''ready 
for  the  practice.  Mr.  Broussard  sings  too 
well  for  you  to  do  less  than  play  divinely." 

Anita,  taking  off  her  gloves  and  veil,  went, 
unsmilingly,  into  the  drawing-room,  Neroda 
following  her,  and  putting  up  the  top  of  the 
grand  piano. 

It  was  Neroda 's  rule  that  Anita  should  tune 
her  own  violin.  Usually  she  did  it  with  beau- 
tiful accuracy,  but  on  this  evening  it  was 
utterly  inharmonious.  As  she  drew  her  bow 
across  the  strings  Neroda  jumped  as  if  he 
were  shot. 

"Great  God!  Signorina,"  he  shouted, 
"every  string  is  swearing  at  the  G-string! 
The  spirit  of  music  will  not  come  to  you  to- 
night unless  you  tune  your  violin  better." 

Anita  stopped  and  laid  down  her  bow,  and 
once  more  holding  the  violin  to  her  ear,  began 
tuning  it.  That  time  the  tuning  was  so  bad 
that  she  handed  the  violin  to  Neroda. 

80 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

*'You  must  tune  it  for  me,  Maestro,"  she 
said,  with  a  wan  smile.  * '  The  spirit  of  music 
seems  far  away  to-night." 

Neroda,  in  a  minute,  handed  her  back  the 
instrument  in  perfect  tune.  Anita,  testing  the 
strings,  her  bow  wandered  into  the  soft  heart- 
moving  music  of  Mascagni's  Intermezzo. 
Neroda  said  nothing,  but  watched  his  favorite 
pupil.  Usually  she  took  up  her  violin  with  a 
calm  confidence,  like  a  young  Amazon  taking 
up  her  well-strung  bow  for  battle,  because 
the  violin  must  be  subdued ;  it  must  be  made 
to  obey ;  it  must  feel  the  master  hand  before 
it  will  speak.  But  to-night  the  master  hand 
failed  Anita,  and  she  played  fitfully  and  sadly 
and  could  do  nothing  as  Neroda  directed  her. 

''Shall  we  give  up  the  rehearsal?"  asked 
Neroda  presently,  seeing  that  Anita  was  not 
concentrated  and  that  her  bow  arm  showed 
strange  weakness. 

*'No,"  replied  Anita,  with  a  new  courage 
in  her  violet  eyes,  ''Let  us  rehearse  for  the 
whole  hour. ' ' 

If  Neroda  had  been  puzzled  at  Anita's  in- 
ability he  was  now  surprised  at  her  strength. 
She  stood  up  to  her  full  height  and  the  bow 
was  firm  in  her  grasp.  Neroda  was  a  hard 
master,  but  Anita  succeeded  in  pleasing  him. 
Even  Kettle,  who  had  an  artistic  rivalry  with 
Neroda,  passing  the  drawing-room  door, 
cried : 

6  81 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

"Lord,  Miss  'Nita,  you  kin  play  the  fiddle 
mos  *  as  well  as  I  kin. ' ' 

As  Mrs.  Fortescue  was  putting  the  last 
touches  to  her  toilette  before  the  long  mirror 
in  her  own  room,  Colonel  Fortescue  came  in, 
dressed  to  go  down-stairs.  The  Colonel's 
mind  had  been  working  on  the  problems  of 
Broussard's  visit  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  the 
look  he  had  noticed  for  some  time  past  in 
Anita's  eyes  when  Broussard  was  present, 
or  even  when  his  name  was  mentioned. 

**I  am  afraid,  Betty,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"that  Anita  thinks  too  much  and  too  often 
of  Broussard.  And  in  spite  of  that  trick  of 
horsemanship  there  are  some  things  a  trifle 
unsatisfactory  about  him. ' ' 

"Really,  Jack,"  answered  Mrs.  Fortescue, 
"you  take  Anita's  moods  far  too  seriously. 
The  girl  will  have  her  little  affairs  as  other 
girls  have  theirs.  It's  like  measles  and 
chicken-pox  and  other  infantile  diseases." 

"Not  for  Anita,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue, 
"that  child  has  in  her  tragic  possibilities. 
Her  heart  is  brittle,  depend  upon  it." 

* '  So  are  all  hearts, ' '  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue, 
"but  you  are  so  ridiculously  sentimental  and 
lackadaisical  about  Anita ! ' ' 

*  *  She  is  my  one  ewe  lamb, ' '  said  the  Colonel. 

Then  they  went  down-stairs  together,  and 
the  next  minute  Anita  appeared,  wearing  a 
gown  of  white  and  silver,  with  a  delicious 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

little  train,  which,  she  managed  as  well  as  a 
seventeen-year-old  could  manage  a  train. 

In  a  minute  or  two  the  guests  began  arriv- 
ing. They  were  handsome,  middle-aged  offi- 
cers and  dignified  matrons.  Broussard  was 
the  only  young  man  present,  which  was  under- 
stood as  a  special  compliment  to  him,  and 
Anita  was  the  only  young  girl  in  the  company. 

Broussard  greeted  the  Colonel  as  coolly  as 
if  that  unlucky  meeting  just  outside  of  Law- 
rence's quarters  had  not  occurred  two  hours 
before.  And  Broussard  was  a  captivating 
fellow — this  the  Colonel  admitted  to  himself, 
with  an  inward  groan,  watching  Broussard 's 
graceful  figure,  his  dashing  manner,  all  these 
externals  that  dazzle  women.  The  Colonel 
also  saw  the  color  that  flooded  Anita's  face 
when  she  took  Broussard 's  arm  to  lead  her 
in  to  dinner.  At  the  table,  though,  Broussard 
found  Anita  strangely  unlike  the  Anita  he 
had  been  steadily  falling  in  love  with  since 
he  first  saw  her,  three  months  before,  when 
Colonel  Fortescue  took  command  at  Fort 
Blizzard.  She  was  no  longer  the  dreamy, 
mysterious  child,  who  knew  all  the  stories  of 
the  poets,  whose  affections  were  all  passions, 
but  a  self-possessed  young  lady,  who  read 
things  in  the  newspapers  about  the  European 
war  and  knew  something  about  aviation 
records,  although  she  hated  aviation. 

Broussard,  with  rage  and  chagrin  in  his 

83 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

heart,  remembered  that  Anita  had  probably 
seen  him  standing  in  the  passage-way  of  Law- 
rence's quarters,  with  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
shapely  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  remained 
calm  and  smiling,  nevertheless,  and  exerted 
to  the  utmost  his  power  to  please.  But  Anita 
remained  calm  and  smiling,  and  maddeningly 
aloof.  Broussard,  inwardly  cursing  himself, 
made  up  his  mind  to  have-  it  out  with  the 
Colonel  the  next  day  about  the  Lawrence 
affair. 

When  dinner  was  over  and  the  men  had 
come  in  from  the  smoking-room,  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue  asked  Broussard  if  he  would  sing ;  Neroda 
was  already  there  to  play  his  accompaniments 
and  Anita  would  play  the  violin  obligato. 

Broussard  was  not  loth  to  show  his  accom- 
plishments and  he  had  a  very  good  will  to  try 
the  magic  of  his  voice  upon  Anita,  gracious, 
and  obstinate  and  smiling. 

The  guests,  in  a  circle  in  the  drawing-room, 
watched  and  listened  to  the  group  at  the  piano 
— Neroda,  short  and  swarthy,  with  a  rancorous 
voice;  Anita,  in  her  blonde  beauty,  looking 
like  another  St.  Cecilia,  and  Broussard,  dark 
and  handsome,  like  Faust,  the  tempter. 

With  deep  intent  Broussard  selected  the 
most  passionate  of  all  his  passionate  songs. 
It  asked  the  old,  old  question,  *'I  love  thee; 
dost  thou  love  me?"  Neroda  struck  into  the 
accompaniment    and    Broussard 's    voice,    a 

84 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

tenor,  with  the  strength  and  feeling  of  a  bari- 
tone, took  up  the  song,  while  the  music  of 
Anita's  violin  delicately  threaded  the  har- 
monies, ever  following  and  responding  to 
Broussard's  voice.    All  of  Anita's  coldness 


vanished  at  the  first  strain  of  the  music; 
Broussard's  voice  penetrated  her  heart  and 
inspired  her  hand.  When  the  song  was  over 
and  she  laid  her  violin  down  on  the  piano  she 
was  once  more  the  palpitating,  shy  enthusi- 
ast, the  half -child,  half- woman  who  had  cap- 
tivated Broussard  at  the  first  glance. 
During  the  interludes  between  the  songs  it 

83 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

was  plain  they  forgot  all  except  each  other. 
They  turned  over  songs  and  read  the  titles  to 
each  other,  Broussard  sometimes  singing, 
under  his  breath,  the  words.  Then,  when  he 
sang  them  in  full  voice  he  infused  all  the  verve, 
tlie  passion,  the  feeling  he  knew  so  well  how  to 
command,  and  played  upon  Anita's  heart- 
strings with  the  hand  of  a  master,  as  Anita 
played  upon  the  strings  of  her  violin.  The 
men  and  women,  listening  and  charmed,  smiled 
at  each  other;  evidently  a  love  affair  was  on 
foot  such  as  everybody  had  expected  since  the 
night  of  the  music  ride.  Colonel  Fortescue 
alone  was  grave,  leaning  back  in  his  chair 
with  sombre  eyes  fixed  on  Broussard.  He  saw 
in  Broussard  a  wild  young  officer  who  needed 
a  stern  warning  about  a  soldier's  handsome 
wife;  and,  while  watching  him.  Colonel  For- 
tescue was  phrasing  the  very  words  in  which 
he  meant  to  call  Broussard  to  account  the 
next  day,  for  the  Colonel  was  not  a  man  to 
postpone  a  disagreeable  duty.  It  would  be  a 
very  disagreeable  duty ;  the  poignant  memory 
of  Anita  lying  on  the  tanbark  and  Broussard 
having  the  skill  to  save  her,  still  haunted 
Colonel  Fortescue 's  thoughts  and  came  to  him 
in  troubled  dreams.  And  Anita — ^undoubtedly 
Broussard  had  impressed  her  imagination, 
and  she  was  a  creature  of  such  strong  fibre 
that  she  must  love  and  suffer  more  than  most 
human  beings  the  Colonel  knew,  well  enough. 

86 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

At  last,  the  singing  was  over  and  the  lis- 
teners came  out  of  a  waking  dream  and  com- 
plimented Anita  and  Broussard,  and  the 
pleasant  chatter  of  a  drawing-room  once  more 
began.  Presently  there  were  leave-takings. 
Broussard  gave  Anita's  hand  a  sharp  pres- 
sure, but  she  looked  at  him  calmly,  all  her 
coldness  resumed.  Out  in  the  winter  night 
Broussard  cursed  himself  for  falling  in  love 
with  a  child,  who  was  an  embodied  caprice 
and  did  not  know  her  own  mind — one  hour 
thrilling  him  with  her  gladness  and  her  low 
voice  and  her  violin,  arfd  the  next,  looking 
at  him  as  if  he  were  a  stock  or  a  stone.  But 
she  was  so  precociously  charming !  And  that 
unlucky  meeting  with  her  and  with  the  Colonel 
in  front  of  Lawrence's  door,  with  Mrs.  Law- 
rence putting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
Broussard  meant  to  go  to  the  Colonel  the 
very  next  day  and  explain  the  whole  business. 
The  resolve  enabled  Broussard  to  sleep  in 
peace  that  night. 

It  was  noon  the  next  day  before  Broussard 
had  a  chance  to  ask  for  an  interview  with 
Colonel  Fortescue.  Meanwhile,  the  Colonel 
had  been  finding  out  things.  He  looked  up  the 
records  of  Broussard  and  Lawrence  and  found 
that  they  were  both  natives  of  the  same  little 
town  in  Louisiana.  That  might  account  for 
their  intimacy,  although  Lawrence  was  fifteen 
years  Broussard 's  senior. 

87 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Just  as  the  Colonel's  orderly  was  crossing 
the  hall  of  the  headquarters  building  he  came 
face  to  face  with  Broussard,  headed  straight 
for  Colonel  Fortescue's  office.  The  orderly 
had  a  message  from  the  Colonel  for  Mr. 
Broussard;  the  Colonel  desired  to  see  Mr. 
Broussard  for  a  few  minutes. 

Broussard,  like  the  Colonel,  was  not  the 
man  to  shirk  an  unpleasant  five  minutes,  so 
he  made  straight  for  the  Colonel's  private 
office.  In  spite  of  his  courageous  advance, 
Broussard  felt  very  much  as  Sergeant  Mc- 
Gillicuddy  described  himself  when  in  the  ab- 
horred buggy  which  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  had 
given  him  as  a  Christmas  gift,  "Hollow  in- 
side." There  is  something  appalling  to  a 
subaltern  in  the  kind  of  an  interview  which 
Broussard  felt  was  ahead  of  him.  He  knew 
in  advance  the  very  tone  in  which  Colonel 
Fortescue  and  all  other  Colonels  prepare  a 
wigging  for  a  junior.  *'It  is  my  painful 
duty."  The  extreme  politeness  with  which 
this  was  accompanied  was  not  reassuring. 
Then  the  Colonel,  taking  the  advice  of  old 
Horace,  plunged  into  the  middle  of  things. 

"I  was  very  much  surprised,"  said  Colonel 
Fortescue,  fixing  his  clear  gaze  on  Broussard, 
"when,  yesterday  evening,  after  dark,  I  saw 
you  standing  in  the  passage-way  to  the  home 
of  an  enlisted  man,  and  evidently  upon  famil- 
iar terms  with  the  man's  wife." 

88 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAID 

*'I  was  on  my  way  to  you,  sir,  just  now,  to 
explain  that  occurrence  when  I  received  your 
order, ' '  replied  Broussard  promptly. 

''I  shall  be  glad  to  have  it  satisfactorily 
explained,"  said  the  C.  0. 

Colonel  Fortescue  had  the  eye  of  command, 
that  secure  power  in  his  glance  which  is  pos- 
sessed by  all  the  masters  of  men ;  the  look  that 
can  wring  the  tnith  out  of  a  man's  mouth  even 
if  that  man  be  a  liar,  and  can  see  through  the 
eyes  of  a  man  into  his  soul.  This  look  of 
command  suddenly  flashed  into  Colonel  For- 
tescue's  face,  and  gazing  into  the  clear  eyes 
of  Broussard  saw  honor  and  truth  and  candor 
there  as  Broussard  spoke. 

* '  The  man,  Lawrence,  as  you  may  know,  sir, 
is  a  gentleman  in  origin  and  socially  above 
most  of  the  good  fellows  in  the  ranks." 

**  And  these  men  sometimes  make  trouble," 
interrupted  the  Colonel. 

*'He  came  from,  the  same  place  that  I  do 
and  tells  me  he  knew  my  mother — God  bless 
her — and  that  she  was  very  kind  to  him  in 
his  boyhood.  That  was  before  I  was  bom. 
He  knows  a  surprising  deal  about  my  parents, 
both  of  whom  died  when  I  was  a  boy.  Some- 
times I  have  doubted  whether  all  he  told  me 
was  true,  but  invariably  it  tallies  with  my  own 
childish  recollections  and  what  I  have  been 
told  of  my  mother.  La^vrence  has  a  passion^ 
ate  attachment  to  my  mother's  memory.    He 

89 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

knows  her  birthday,  and  the  day  of  her  death, 
and  more  even  than  I  do  about  her.  The  first 
word  I  had  with  him  was  on  the  anniversary 
of  my  mother 's  death.  He  came  to  my  quar- 
ters and  asked  to  see  me,  told  me  of  my 
mother's  goodness  to  him,  and  burst  into  tears 
before  he  got  through.  Of  course,  that  melted 
me — my  mother  was  one  of  God's  angels  on 
this  earth.  He  is  always  in  money  troubles, 
and  I  helped  him.  That  brought  me  into  con- 
tact with  his  wife — a  woman  of  his  own  class, 
who  has  stood  by  Lawrence,  and  is  worthy, 
I  think,  to  be  classified  with  my  mother.  If 
you  could  see  the  way  that  woman  works  for 
Lawrence  and  their  child — there's  a  little  boy 
five  years  old, — and  how  she  struggles  to  keep 
him  straight  and  sober.  I  had  just  done  her  a 
little  favor  at  the  post  trader's  place,  and  went 
to  her  to  explain  it  privately.  She  was  very 
grateful;  you  saw  her  put  her  hand  on  my 
shoulder.  The  truth  is,  Mrs.  Lawrence  does 
not  yet  fully  understand  her  position  as  a  pri- 
vate soldier's  wife.  What  I  have  told  you, 
sir,  is  all,  upon  my  honor. ' ' 

'*I  believe  you,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue, 
after  a  moment,  and  holding  out  his  hand, 
which  Broussard  grasped  with  a  feeling  of 
vast  relief. 

''The  man  seems  to  be  doing  pretty  well, 
except  about  his  money  troubles,  of  which  I 
know  nothing  but  what  you  tell  me,"  went 

90 


THE  HEART  OF  A  MAH) 

on  the  Colonel.  ''He  is  one  of  the  best 
aviators  in  the  corps.  Of  course,  his  name 
isn  't  Lawrence. ' ' 

"So  he  admitted  to  me,"  replied  Brous- 
sard,  ''I  am  all  abroad  concerning  his  knowl- 
edge of  my  family.  I  only  know  that  he  loves 
my  mother's  memory,  that  he  evidently  knew 
her  well,  and  that  his  wife  is  an  heroic  woman. 
I  have  promised  her  that  when  the  little  boy 
is  old  enough  I  will  do  a  good  part  by  him.  I 
have  something  besides  my  pay." 

This  "something"  was  of  a  size  that  made 
the  Colonel  think  it  was  rather  a  drawback  to 
Broussard. 

"I  only  advise  you  to  be  prudent  in  your 
intercourse  with  Lawrence  and  his  wife,"  said 
the  Colonel,  rising.  And  the  interview  was 
over. 

Broussard  went  back  with  a  light  heart  to 
his  day's  duties.  The  Colonel  knew  the  truth, 
and  so,  some  day,  would  Anita,  the  little  witch. 

It  was  growing  dusk  when  Broussard  again 
passed  the  headquarters  building.  The  last 
mail  had  come  in  and  the  published  orders 
were  fastened  on  the  bulletin  board.  Brous- 
sard stopped  to  read  them.  The  first  name 
mentioned  was  that  of  Lieutenant  Victor 
Broussard,  who  was  detached  from  his  present 
duty  at  Fort  Blizzard  and  ordered  on  special 
duty  to  the  Philippines. 


CHAPTER  IV 
"GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

Beoussaed,  after  reading  his  orders,  walked 
quickly  to  his  quarters.  On  the  desk  in  his 
luxuriously  furnished  sitting-room,  was  a 
letter  from  the  C.  0.  giving  the  order  in  detail 
from  the  War  Department;  Broussard  was  to 
make  the  next  steamer  sailing  from  San  Fran- 
cisco. He  went  through  with  a  rapid  mental 
calculation.  To  do  that,  he  would  be  obliged 
to  leave  Fort  Blizzard  not  later  than  the  next 
afternoon. 

Broussard  took  his  orders  with  a  soldier's 
coolness.  He  particularly  disliked  them;  he 
did  not  want  to  leave  Fort  Blizzard  for  any 
other  spot  on  the  habitable  globe,  and  least 
of  all  did  he  want  to  go  to  the  island  pos- 
sessions. But  he  said  no  word  of  complaint, 
took,  with  perfect  good  humor,  the  condo- 
lences and  chaff  of  his  brother  officers  at  the 
mess  dinner  that  night,  and  plunged  into 
his  preparations  to  leave. 

The  disposal  of  the  expensive  impedimenta 
which  Broussard  had  accumulated  gave  him 
much  trouble.  He  did  not  value  them  greatly, 
and  without  much  thought  determined  to  give 
his  costly  rugs  and  lamps  and  glass  and  china 
to  the  Lawrences — they  were  originally  used 


"GOOD-BYE,  STVEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

to  that  sort  of  thing  and  Broussard  was  in  no 
fear  of  the  C^4onel's  misunderstanding  it,  or 
any  one  else,  for  that  matter,  as  it  had  been 
well  known  that  there  was  some  tie  or  associa- 
tion between  Broussard  and  Lawrence  in  their 
childhood. 

The  scattering  of  costly  gifts  by  a  very  free- 
handed person  is  usually  most  indiscreet,  and 
Broussard  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  He 
presented  his  finest  motor  to  a  brother  officer, 
who  had  to  support  a  wife  and  children  on  a 
captain's  pay  and  could  not  afford  to  support 
the  motor  besides.  The  game  chickens,  the 
beloved  of  Broussard 's  heart,  he  presented  to 
another  officer,  whose  wife  objected  seriously 
to  cock-fighting.  The  chaplain,  seeing  the 
grand  piano  was  about  to  be  thro\\Ti  away  on 
anybody  who  could  take  it,  managed  to  secure 
it  for  the  men's  reading-room.  The  thing 
which  perplexed  Broussard  most  was,  what  to 
do  with  Gamechick.  He  longed  to  give  the 
horse  to  Anita  but  dared  not.  However,  fate 
befriended  him  in  this  matter  and  Anita  got 
Gamechick  by  other  means.  When  Colonel 
Fortescue  came  home  for  the  cup  of  tea  that 
Mrs.  Fortescue  was  always  waiting  to  give 
him  at  five  o'clock,  with  the  sweet  looks  and 
tender  words  that  made  the  hour  so  happy, 
he  mentioned,  in  an  off-hand  way,  Broussard 's 
orders  and  that  he  was  leaving  the  next  day. 
Neither  the  father  nor  the  mother  looked 

93 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

toward  Anita,  sitting  a  little  in  the  shadow  of 
the  dim  drawing-room.  Mrs.  Fortescue,  by 
way  of  making  conversation,  said : 

' '  I  wonder  what  he  will  do  with  his  motors 
and  horses  and  game  chickens,  and  all  those 
beautiful  things  he  has  in  his  quarters!" 

*'0h,  that's  easy  enough  to  tell,"  answered 
Colonel  Fortescue.  ''All  these  young  officers 
who  load  themselves  up  with  that  kind  of  thing 
act  just  alike.  As  soon  as  they  are  ordered 
somewhere  else  they  throw  away  these  things. 
They  call  it  giving,  but  it  is  merely  largesse." 

*'I  wish,"  said  Anita,  in  a  soft,  composed 
voice,  "that  I  could  have  Gamechick.  I  can't 
help  loving  the  horse  that  might  have  killed 
me  and  did  not.  Daddy,  if  I  give  up  half  my 
allowance  for  every  month  until  I  pay  for 
him,  would  you  buy  him  for  me?" 

Colonel  Fortescue  was  quite  as  well  able  as 
Broussard  to  own  Gamechick,  but  Anita  had 
been  brought  up  with  a  wholesome  economy. 

"I  think  so,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
gravely. 

It  would,  in  reality,  have  taken  Anita's 
modest  allowance  for  a  couple  of  years  to  buy 
Gamechick.    Mrs.  Fortescue  said  as  much. 

**It  would  take  all  your  allowance  for  a  long 
time,  Anita,  to  buy  Gamechick.  The  horse 
has  a  pedigree  longer  than  mine,  and  I  have 
often  noticed  that  ancestors  are  worth  a  great 
deal  more  to  horses  than  to  human  beings." 

94 


"GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

*'0h,  the  price  can  be  managed,'*  said  the 
Colonel,  good  naturedly.  '^Broussard's  horses 
will  probably  be  sold  for  a  song. ' ' 

Gamechick  was  not  sold  for  a  song,  how- 
ever, but  for  an  excellent  price.  Colonel  For- 
tescue  was  not  the  man  to  buy  a  good  horse 
for  a  song  of  any  man,  least  of  all  one  of  his 
own  subalterns.  When  Broussard  got  the 
Colonel's  note  containing  an  offer  for  Game- 
chick,  he  laughed  with  pleasure,  although  he 
was  not  in  a  laughing  mood. 

*'I  should  like  to  own  the  horse,'*  the 
Colonel's  note  ran,  "which,  together  with  your 
fine  horsemanship,  saved  my  daughter's  life, 
and  he  is  well  worth  my  offer." 

Broussard  would  have  given  all  of  his  other 
possessions  at  Fort  Blizzard  if  he  could  have 
made  Anita  a  gift  of  the  horse,  but  the  next 
best  thing  to  do  was,  to  sell  him  to  her  father. 
Broussard  felt  sure  that  Anita  would  ride 
Gamechick  and  there  was  much  solid  comfort 
in  that,  for  an  officer's  charger,  which  carries 
him  in  life  and  is  led  behind  his  coffin  in  death, 
is  near  and  dear  to  him.  So,  Broussard  lost 
not  a  moment  in  accepting  the  Colonel's  offer 
for  Gamechick. 

It  was  quite  midnight  before  Broussard, 
with  the  assistance  of  his  soldier  attendant, 
had  got  those  of  his  belongings  which  he  in- 
tended to  take  with  him  sorted  out  and  packed 
up.    He  dismissed  the  man  and  in  the  midst 

96 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

of  his  disordered  sitting-room  settled  himself 
for  his  last  cigar  before  turning  in  for  the 
night.  At  that  moment  he  heard  a  tap  at  the 
door,  and  opening  it,  Lawrence  was  standmg 
on  the  threshold.  He  entered,  taking  off  his 
cap  and  loosening  his  heavy  uniform  great- 
coat. Once  he  had  been  a  handsome  fellow, 
but  he  had  danced  too  long  to  the  devil's 
fiddling,  and  that  always  spoils  a  man's  looks. 

For  the  first  time,  Lawrence  seemed  to  for- 
get the  distance  between  the  private  soldier 
and  the  officer.  He  sat  down  heavily,  without 
waiting  for  an  invitation,  and  turned  a  hag- 
gard face  on  Broussard. 

*'So  you  are  going,"  said  Lawrence. 

*'Yes,"  replied  Broussard. 

Broussard  saw  that  Lawrence  was  op- 
pressed at  the  thought ;  there  would  be  no  more 
Broussard  to  help  him  pay  the  post  trader's 
bills  and  to  give  him  a  good  word  when  he  got 
into  trouble  with  the  non-coms. 

Broussard  handed  him  a  box  of  cigars  and 
Lawrence  absently  took  one.  It  was  a  very 
expensive  cigar,  as  Broussard 's  things  were 
all  expensive.  Lawrence,  after  rolling  it  in 
his  fingers  for  a  moment,  laid  it  down. 

*'It's  a  shame  not  to  be  able  to  smoke  such 
a  brand  as  that,"  he  said,  ''but  the  truth  is,  I 
can't  stand  tobacco  to-night.  It  makes  me 
nervous  instead  of  soothing  me. ' ' 

Broussard,  lighting  a  cigar  for  himself, 

96 


"GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

looked  closely  at  Lawrence,  whose  face  was 
pallid  and  his  eye  sombre  and  uneasy. 

''What's  the  trouble?     More  bills  at  the 
post  trader 'si"  asked  Broussard. 

''Worse,"  replied  Lawrence,  becoming 
more  agitated  as  he  spoke.  "My  wife — the 
best  wife  that  ever  lived — has  been  traced 
here  by  her  people.  Of  course,  my  name  isn't 
Lawrence,  and  there  was  some  trouble  in  find- 
ing her.  They  want  her  to  leave  me,  and  offer 
to  provide  for  her  and  the  boy.  The  work  is 
killing  her — you  see  how  pale  and  thin  she  is — 
and  the  boy  hasn't  the  chance  he  ought  to  have. 
They  are  worth  more  than  a  broken  and  beaten 
man  like  I  am.  But  ever  since  I  married  her 
I've  led  a  fairly  decent  life — she  is  the  one 
creature  who  can  keep  me  a  little  on  this  side 
of  the  jail.  If  she  leaves  me,  I'm  lost.  What 
shaU  I  do?" 

Lawrence  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood,  trem- 
bling like  a  leaf.  Broussard  rose,  too.  By 
some  strange,  psychic  foreknowledge,  Brous- 
sard knew  that  some  disclosure,  poignant  and 
even  vital  to  himself,  was  then  to  be  made  by 
Lawrence.  It  came  in  Lawrence's  next  words, 
dragged  out  of  him,  as  it  were,  by  a  force  like 
that  which  drags  the  soul  from  the  body. 

"I  ask  you  this,"  cried  Lawrence,  "in  the 

name  of  our  mother,  for  you  and  I,  Victor 

Broussard,  are  brothers  of  the  half  blood." 

By  that  time,  Lawrence  was  weeping  con- 

7  97 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

vulsively.  Broussard's  lighted  cigar  dropped 
to  the  floor,  and  lay  there  smoldering. 

''But — but — "  stammered  Broussard,  ''my 
half-brother,  my  mother's  son  by  her  first 
marriage,  died  when  I  was  a  boy.  My  mother 
wore  mourning  for  him." 

"Yes,"    answered    Lawrence,    recovering 


himself  a  little,  * '  she  thought  I  was  dead  when 
I  was  in  double  irons  for  mutiny  on  a  mer- 
chant ship.  It  was  one  of  God 's  mercies  that 
she  thought  me  dead  when  I  was  living  a  life 
that  would  have  been  worse  than  death  to  her. 
Look  you,  I  have  disobeyed  and  defied  and 
disgraced  the  God  that  made  me,  but  I  have 
never  ceased  to  believe  in  Him.  And,  black- 
guard that  I  was  and  am,  I  had  the  best 
mother,  and  I  have  the  best  wife " 

98 


"GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

There  was  a  tense  silence  for  a  minute. 
Through  all  the  bewildering  and  overwhelm- 
ing thoughts  that  were  crashing  through 
Broussard's  brain,  but  one  thing  was  clear 
and  unshakable,  the  deathless  loyalty  that  a 
son  owes  to  his  mother. 

' '  Of  course, ' '  said  Broussard,  in  a  cool  and 
resolute  voice,  ''I'll  stand  by  my  mother's 
son,  for  my  mother's  sake.  I  was  always  puz- 
zled at  your  knowledge  of  my  parents,  but  I 
want  some  actual  proof  of  what  you  say.  Not 
for  myself,  you  understand,  but  for  others. '* 

"Here  it  is,"  said  Lawrence,  taking  a  small, 
thin  gold  ring  from'  his  little  finger.  "When 
my  mother  married  your  father,  I  was  four- 
teen years  old.  She  gave  me  the  wedding  ring 
my  father  had  given  her;  she  put  it  on  my 
finger  and  it  has  never  been  removed  since — 
but  I  will  take  it  off  to  show  to  you. ' ' 

Lawrence  pulled  the  ring  off  and  Broussard, 
under  the  glare  of  the  electric  lamp,  read  the 
initials  and  the  date  he  had  seen  in  the  family 
record.  Then,  handing  the  ring  back,  Brous- 
sard studied  Lawrence 's  haggard  face.  Law- 
rence, answering  the  unspoken  words,  said : 

"I  was  always  thought  like  my  mother,  and 
the  boy  is  the  image  of  her." 

A  sudden  illumination  flooded  Broussard 's 
mind  with  light.  He  recalled  the  child  ^s  face, 
frank  and  handsome — a  face  that  had  always 
appealed  to  him  so  strongly,  and  so  strangely. 

99 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Yes,  it  was  the  call  of  the  blood,  and  instantly 
the  mysterious  attraction  the  boy  had  for  him 
'developed  into  the  affection  of  a  kinsman. 

"If  you  could  see  my  wife  and  talk  with 
her, ' '  continued  Lawrence,  recovering  himself 
a  little.  "I  can't  urge  her  to  leave  me,  but 
I  think  in  common  justice  to  her  somebody 
ought  to  put  the  thing  before  her. ' ' 

* '  Certainly, ' '  replied  Broussard. 

He  was  turning  things  rapidly  in  his  mind. 
It  would  never  do,  after  the  Colonel 's  warning, 
to  go  to  Lawrence's  quarters,  and  he  said  so. 

"It  would  look  as  if  I  had  called  for  a  fare- 
well visit  to  your  wife,  when  I  haven't  time  to 
pay  any  calls  except  to  the  C.  0., ' '  said  Brous- 
sard, after  a  moment.  "But  I  will  see  the 
Colonel  in  the  morning  and  try  to  arrange, 
through  him,  an  interview  with  your  wife. '  ^ 

"But  don't,  for  God's  sake,  tell  who  I  am," 
cried  Lawrence.  "Don't  tell  it,  for  the  sake 
of  our  mother 's  memory.    It  isn  't  necessary. ' ' 

"No,  it  is  not  necessary,"  replied  Brous- 
sard. He  was  full  of  brotherly  pity  for  Law- 
rence, his  respect  and  sympathy  for  Mrs.  Law- 
rence suddenly  changed  into  the  love  of  a 
brother  for  a  sister,  and  the  little  boy  became 
dear  to  him  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

A  silence  fell  between  the  two  men,  which 
was  broken  by  Broussard. 

"Couldn't  you  get  a  discharge  from  the 
army?" 

100 


"GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

"No,'*  answered  Lawrence,  ** there  are  too 
many  black  marks  against  me — not  enough  to 
turn  me  out,  but  enough  to  keep  me  in.  How- 
ever, I've  kept  soberer  and  acted  straighter 
since  I've  been  an  enlisted  man  than  for  a 
long  time  past;  the  non-coms,  know  how  to 
handle  men  like  me.  And  I'm  a  good  aviator, 
and  they  want  to  keep  me. ' ' 

''At  all  events,"  said  Broussard,  taking 
Lawrence's  hand,  "I'll  look  out  for  your  wife 
and  child.  The  boy  shall  have  his  chance — he 
shall  have  his  chance,  the  jolly  little  chap !" 

Then,  standing  up,  the  two  men  embraced  as 
brothers  do,  and  felt  their  mother's  tender 
spirit  hovering  over  them. 

The  next  morning,  while  Colonel  Fortescue 
was  at  breakfast,  a  note  was  handed  to  him  by 
Broussard 's  soldier  attendant.    It  read: 

"Last  night  I  had  a  visit  from  Lawrence. 
He  has  a  great  affection  for  his  wife  and  child, 
and  wanted  me  to  talk  with  his  wife  about  a 
family  matter  in  which  he  feels  he  can  not 
advise  her.  Can  you  kindly  suggest  some  way 
by  which  I  may  have  a  private  talk  of  a  few 
minutes  with  Mrs.  Lawrence?" 

Colonel  Fortescue  scribbled  on  the  back  of 
the  note : 

"Come  to  my  office  in  my  house  at  ten 
o'clock  and  I  will  have  Mrs.  Lawrence  here." 

Broussard  felt  a  little  chagrined  when  he 
received  this  note.    Suppose  Anita  should  see 

101 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

him  I  She  had  already  seen  Mrs.  Lawrence 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  There  was, 
however,  no  gainsaying  the  C.  0.,  and  at  ten 
o'clock  Broussard  rang  the  bell  at  the  Com- 
mandant's house.  Sergeant  McGillicuddy 
opened  the  door  for  him  and  showed  him  into 
the  little  office  across  the  hall,  saying : 

''Them's  the  Colonel's  orders,  sir." 

At  the  same  moment  Mrs.  Lawrence,  pale, 
beautiful  and  stately,  walked  in  from  the  back 
entrance.  As  she  and  Broussard  met  in  the 
sunny  hall,  brimming  with  the  morning  light, 
Anita  walked  down  the  stairs  and  came  face 
to  face  with  Broussard  and  Mrs.  Lawrence. 

Broussard 's  dark  skin  turned  dull  red ;  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  calmly  unconscious,  bowed  to  Anita, 
who,  in  her  turn,  bowed  and  passed  on ;  her 
head,  usually  with  a  graceful  droop,  was  erect ; 
she  radiated  silent  displeasure.  Then  Brous- 
sard and  Mrs.  Lawrence  entered  the  office  and 
Broussard  closed  the  door.  He  was  full  of 
discomfort  and  chagrin,  but  it  did  not  make 
him  forgetful  of  the  pale  woman  before  liim. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  sat  down  in  a  chair ;  it  was 
plain  that  she  was  not  strong.  Broussard, 
taking  her  hand,  said  to  her  affectionately : 

' '  Last  night  Lawrence  told  me  all.  Remem- 
ber, after  this,  that  you  and  he  have  a  brother, 
and  the  boy  will  be  to  me  as  a  son. ' ' 

The  slow  tears  gathered  in  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
eyes  and  fell  upon  her  thin  cheeks. 

102 


*  GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE'* 

*'My  husband  told  me  when  he  came  home 
last  night.  I  can't  express  what  I  feel — but 
the  boy  shall  remember  you  in  his  innocent 
prayer. ' ' 

''It's  the  boy  I  want  to  speak  about,"  said 
Broussard,  "Lawrence  tells  me  that  you  have 
a  chance  of  going  back  to  your  own  people 
and  that  you  are  breaking  down  under  the 
hard  work  of  a  soldier's  wife.  You  can  never 
get  used  to  it. ' ' 

''Perhaps  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
calmly,  "especially  as  I  was  brought  up  to 
have  a  French  maid.  But  I  don't  intend  to 
leave  my  husband.  I  love  him  too  well.  Don 't 
ask  me  why  I  love  him  so.  I  couldn't  explain 
it  to  you  to  save  my  life,  but  I  will  say  that 
since  the  day  we  were  married — I  ran  away  to 
marry  him — ^he  has  never  spoken  an  unkind 
word  to  me.  He  had  nothing  to  give  me  ex- 
cept his  love,  but  he  has  given  me  that.  What- 
ever his  faults  may  be  as  a  soldier,  he  has  been 
a  good  husband  to  me.'* 

' '  A  good  husband ! ' ' 

Broussard  involuntarily  repeated  the 
words,  marvelling  and  admiring  the  con- 
stancy, the  self-delusion,  the  blind  devotion 
of  the  woman  before  him. 

"A  loving  husband,  I  should  have  said," 
said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  a  faint  color  coming  into 
her  face.  ' '  But  my  resolution  is  made.  "What 
you  said  about  helping  the  boy  only  fixes  it 

103 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

firmer,  because  it  did  seem  as  if  his  only 
chance  would  be  thrown  away." 

The  conversation  had  not  lasted  five  minutes 
but  Broussard  saw  that  five  decades  of  per- 
suasion would  not  move  Mrs.  Lawrence.  Be- 
sides, he  had  spoken  to  her  from  a  profound 
sense  of  justice ;  in  his  heart,  the  tie  of  blood 
between  him  and  Lawrence  made  him  wish 
that  the  wife  should  continue  to  stand  by  the 
husband. 

They  both  rose,  feeling  that  the  matter  was 
settled  inevitably.  Broussard  took  from  his 
breast  pocket  a  roll  of  notes. 

*'It  is  better  for  you  than  bank  checks," 
he  said;  "when  this  is  gone,  write  to  me  and 
there  will  be  more.  Lawrence  feels,  as  I  do, 
that  for  the  sake  of  our  mother's  memory  it 
would  be  better  that  his  identity  should  not 
be  revealed. '  * 

A  vivid  blush  flooded  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
face.  Her  woman's  pride  was  cut  to  the  quick 
and  Broussard,  seeing  it,  said  quickly : 

* '  It  was  his  suggestion,  not  mine. ' ' 

Then,  taking  Mrs.  Lawrence's  hand,  Brous- 
sard gave  her  a  brother's  kiss,  which  she  re- 
turned as  a  sister  might,  and  they  passed  out 
of  the  office.  In  the  hall  Broussard  left 
cards  for  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  and 
Anita.  Kettle,  having  heard  that  Broussard 
was  leaving,  came  out  of  the  dining-room, 
where  he  had  been  washing  dishes,  and  wiping 

104 


"GOOD-BYE,  SWEETHEART,  GOOD-BYE" 

his  hands  on  his  long  checked  gingham  apron, 
offered  a  friendly  grasp  to  Broussard. 

"I  ain'  goin'  ter  let  Miss  'Nita  furgit  you, 
suh,"  Kettle  whispered,  *'doan'  you  be 
skeered  of  Mr.  Conway — he  treat  Miss  'Nita 
same  like  he  did  when  she  wear  her  hair  down 
her  back." 

Broussard  inwardly  thought  that  perhaps 
Conway 's  plan  was  best.  But  he  gave  Kettle  a 
confidential  wink  and  a  bank  note. 

"Some  day  I'll  come  back,  Kettle,  and 
then " 

Broussard  did  not  finish  the  sentence  in  his 
own  mind.  Anita  had  seen  just  enough  to 
prejudice  a  young,  innocent  girl  against  him. 

Outside  the  door,  a  trooper  was  holding 
Gamechick  by  the  bridle,  delivering  the  horse 
to  his  new  master. 

"Good-bye,  good  horse,"  said  Broussard, 
patting  Gamechick 's  neck.  "You  did  me  the 
best  turn  any  creature,  man  or  beast,  ever  did 
me,  and  I  promise  never  to  forget  my  obliga- 
tions to  you." 

Horses  are  sentimental  creatures.  Game- 
chick knew  that  Broussard 's  words  were  a 
farewell.  He  turned  his  large,  intelligent  eyes 
on  Broussard,  saying  as  plainly  as  a  horse 
can  speak : 

"Good-bye,  good  master.  Never  will  I, 
your  faithful  horse,  forget  you." 

Broussard,   walking   rapidly    off,    in    the 

105 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

bright  January  morning,  turned  around  for 
one  last  glimpse  at  the  house  that  held  Anita. 
At  that  moment  the  great  doors  of  the  Com- 
mandant's house  opened,  and  Anita,  with  a 
long  crimson  cloak  around  her  and  a  hood 
over  her  head,  ran  down  the  broad  stone  steps 
to  where  Gamechick  was  standing  like  a  bronze 
horse,  the  best-trained  and  best-mannered  and 
best-bred  cavalry  charger  at  Fort  Blizzard. 
Anita  put  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  rubbed 
her  cheek  against  his  satin  coat,  Gamechick 
receiving  her  caresses  with  dignity,  as  a  cav- 
alry charger  should,  and  not  with  the  tender 
bendings  and  nosings  for  lumps  of  sugar,  like 
Pretty  Maid.  The  last  glimpse  Broussard 
had  of  Anita  was,  as  she  stood,  her  arm  about 
Gamechick 's  neck,  her  crimson  mantle  fall- 
ing away  from  her  graceful  shoulder. 

"How  much  simpler,"  thought  Broussard, 
as  he  buttoned  his  heavy  fur  coat,  for  the  ride 
to  the  station,  "is  love  for  a  horse,  for  a  child, 
for  anything  created,  than  love  for  a  woman ! 
No  man  gets  out  of  that  business  without  com- 
plications, and  when  the  woman  is  half  a  child, 
an  idealist,  precocious,  an  angel  with  a  devil 
lurking  somewhere  about  her,  it's  the  most 
complicated  thing  on  this  planet!" 

Broussard  carried  these  thoughts  with  him 
through  the  frozen  Northwest,  across  the 
sapphire  seas,  and  into  the  jungles  of  the 
tropics,  to  which  he  was  destined. 

106 


^ 


THE    LA8T   GLIMPSE    BROU88ARD  HAD   OF   ANITA   WAS,   AS    SHE   STOOD,    HER 
ARM   ABOUT   GAMECHICK's   NECK 


CHAPTER  V 
UNFORGETTING 

*' As  the  passing  of  leaves,  so  is  tlie  passing 
of  men."  Thus  it  was  with  'Broussard.  An- 
other man  came  to  take  his  place;  his  once 
luxurious  quarters,  now  plainly  furnished, 
were  occupied  by  another  officer,  his  fighting 
cocks  had  disappeared,  and  Gamechick  be- 
came a  lady's  mount.  Anita  quite  gave  over 
riding  Pretty  Maid,  and  rode  Gamechick  every 
day.  She  had  some  of  the  superstitions  of  the 
Arabs  about  horses,  and  when  she  dismounted, 
she  always  whispered  something  in  the  horse's 
ear.    The  words  were : 

* '  We  won 't  forget  him,  Gamechick,  although 
he  has  forgotten  us." 

At  this,  Gamechick  would  turn  his  steady, 
intelligent  eyes  on  her,  and  nod,  as  if  he  under- 
stood every  word.  Colonel  Fortescue  and  Mrs. 
Fortescue  noticed  this  little  trick  of  Anita's 
and  looked  at  each  other  in  silent  pity  for 
the  girl.  She  suddenly  developed  amazing 
energy,  working  hard  at  her  violin  lessons  and 
delighting  Neroda  by  her  progress,  reading 
and  studying  until  Mrs.  Fortescue  took  the 
books  away  from  her,  going  to  all  the  dances, 
doing  everything  that  her  young  companions 
did,  and  many  things  which  they  did  not. 

107 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

She  became  the  chaplain's  right  hand  for 
work  among  the  soldier's  children,  and  from 
daybreak  until  she  went  to  bed  at  night  Anita 
was  ever  employed  at  something  and  throw- 
ing into  that  something  wonderful  force  and 
perseverance.  One  thing  became  immediately 
noticeable  to  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue;  this 
was  that  Ajaita  never  spoke  Broussard's  name 
from  the  hour  he  left  Fort  Blizzard. 

''It  is  only  a  girl's  fancy;  she  will  get  over 
it, ' '  said  Mrs.  Fortescue  to  the  Colonel. 

' '  She  would  if  she  were  like  most  girls,  but 
I  tell  you,  Betty,  this  child  of  ours,  this  de- 
voted, obedient  little  thing,  has  more  mind, 
more  introspection,  than  any  young  creature 
I  ever  knew.  There  is  the  making  of  a  dozen 
tragedies  in  her." 

*'It  is  you  who  are  too  introspective  and  too 
tragic  about  her,"  answered  Mrs.  Fortescue, 
and  the  Colonel,  recognizing  the  germ  of  truth 
in  his  wife's  words,  remained  silent  for  a 
moment.    Then  he  said: 

"It's  the  sky  and  the  snow  and  this  altitude, 
and  being  shut  in  from  all  the  world  that  make 
everything  so  tense.  On  these  far-off,  ice- 
bound plains,  life  is  abnormally  vivid.  We 
are  all  keyed  up  too  high  here. ' ' 

Mrs.  Fortescue,  seeing  Anita  reading  often, 
and  getting  many  book  from  the  post  library, 
glanced  at  the  literature  that  crowded  the 
table  in  Anita's  sunny  bed  room.    They  were 

108 


UNFORGETTING 

of  two  sorts — books  of  passionate  poetry  and 
books  about  the  Philippines,  their  geography, 
their  history,  the  story  of  the  natives,  "the 
silent,  sullen  peoples,  half  savage  and  half 
child, ' '  tales  of  the  creeping,  crawling,  sting- 
ing things  that  make  life  hideous  in  the 
jungles,  all  these  was  Anita  studying.  Mrs. 
Forteseue  said  nothing  of  this  to  the  Colonel, 
but  recalled  that  Broussard  was  in  the  Philip- 
pines, and  Anita's  soul  was  there,  although 
her  body  was  at  Fort  Blizzard.  In  a  book  of 
her  own,  Anita  had  written  her  name,  in  the 
firm,  clear  hand  that  belonged  to  thirty  rather 
than  to  seventeen,  and  these  words : 

"This  I,  who  walk  and  talk  and  sleep  and 
eat  here,  is  not  I.  It  is  but  my  body ;  my  soul 
is  with  the  Beloved." 

Mrs.  Forteseue  said  nothing  of  this  to  the 
Colonel,  but  the  trend  of  Anita's  reading  was 
unexpectedly  revealed  at  one  of  the  stately 
and  handsome  dinners  that  were  given  weekly 
at  the  Commandant's  house  during  the  season. 
When  the  officers  were  in  the  smoking-room 
a  question  of  the  geography  of  the  Philippines 
came  up,  and  was  not  settled.  Colonel  For- 
teseue called  for  a  book  on  the  subject,  which 
was  in  Anita's  room.  Anita  herself  brought 
it,  and  hovered  for  a  moment  behind  her 
father's  chair;  the  subject  of  the  Philippines 
had  a  magic  power  to  hold  her. 

Not  even  the  book  gave  the  desired  inf  orma- 

109 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

tion  and  Anita  leaned  over  and  whispered 
into  her  father's  ear: 

'  *  Daddy,  I  can  tell  you  about  it. ' ' 

**Do,"  answered  the  Colonel,  smiling,  and 
turning  to  his  guests,  ''This  young  lady  will 
interest  us." 

Anita,  whose  air  was  shy  and  her  violet 
eyes  usually  downcast,  was  the  least  shy  and 
the  most  courageous  creature  imaginable. 
She  got  a  map,  and,  spreading  it  out  on  the 
table,  pointed  out  the  true  solution,  and  pro- 
duced books  to  explain  it.  The  officers,  all 
mature  men,  listened  with  interest  and  amuse- 
ment, complimenting  Anita,  and  telling  her 
she  ought  to  have  an  officer's  commission. 
Colonel  Fortescue  beamed  with  pride;  no 
other  girl  at  the  post  had  as  much  solid  in- 
formation as  Anita. 

When  the  guests  were  gone  and  Anita  was 
lying  wide  awake  in  her  little  white  bed,  think- 
ing of  Broussard,  Colonel  Fortescue,  in  the 
pride  of  his  heart,  was  telling  Mrs.  Fortescue 
about  it,  as  he  smoked  his  last  cigar  in  his 
office. 

''It  was  great!"  said  the  Colonel.  "The 
child  knew  her  subject  wonderfully.  She  sat 
there,  talking  with  men  who  had  served  in 
the  Philippines,  and  they  said  she  knew  as 
much  as  they  did. ' ' 

"Broussard  is  in  the  Philippines  "  replied 
Mrs.  Fortescue  quietly. 
110 


UNFORGETTING 

Colonel  Fortescue  dashed  his  cigar  into  the 
fireplace  and  remained  silent  for  five  minutes. 

''At  any  rate,"  he  said  presently,  "The 
child's  love  affair  hasn't  made  a  fool  of  her. 
She  is  actually  learning  something  from  it. 
That's  where  she  is  so  far  ahead  of  most  young 
things  of  her  age. ' ' 

"She  will  be  eighteen  next  spring,'*  said 
Mrs.  Fortescue. 

The  mention  of  Anita's  age  always  made 
the  Colonel  cross ;  so  nothing  more  was  said 
between  the  father  and  mother  about  Anita 
that  night.  But  the  Colonel  yearned  over 
the  beloved  of  his  heart,  nor  did  he  classify 
Anita 's  silent  and  passionate  remembrance  of 
Broussard  with  the  idle  fancies  of  a  young 
girl ;  it  was  like  Anita  herself,  of  strong  fibre. 

The  winter  wore  on,  and  the  whirlpool  of 
life  surged  in  the  far-distant  post,  as  in 
the  greater  centres  of  life.  The  chaplain,  an 
earnest  man,  found  men  and  women  more 
willing  to  listen  to  him  than  in  any  spot  in 
which  he  had  ever  spoken  the  message  en- 
trusted to  him.  Perhaps  the  aviation  field 
had  something  to  do  with  it;  the  people  in 
the  fort  were  always  near  to  life  and  to 
death.  The  chaplain  disliked  to  find  himself 
watching  particular  faces  in  the  chapel  when 
he  preached  the  simple,  soldierly  sermons  on 
Sundays,  and  w^as  annoyed  with  himself  that 
he  always  saw,  above  all  others,  Anita  For- 
111 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

tescue's  gaze,  and  tliat  of  Mrs.  Lawrence,  as 
she  sat  far  back  in  tlie  chapel.  Anita's  eyes 
were  full  of  questionings,  and  dark  with  sad- 
ness; but  Mrs.  Lawrence,  in  her  plain  black 
gown  and  hat,  sometimes  with  Lawrence  by 
her  side,  always  with  the  beautiful  boy,  sitting 
among  the  soldiers  and  their  wives,  embodied 
tragedy.  The  chaplain  sometimes  went  to  see 
Mrs.  Lawrence ;  she  was  a  delicate  woman,  and 
often  ill,  and  the  chaplain  was  forced  to  admire 
Lawrence's  kindness  to  his  wife,  although  in 
other  respects  Lawrence  was  not  a  model  of 
conduct.  As  with  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  and 
everybody  else  at  the  fort,  Mrs.  Lawrence 
maintained  a  still,  unconquerable  reserve. 
One  day,  the  chaplain  said  to  Anita : 

''I  hear  that  Lawrence's  wife  is  ill.  Could 
you  go  to  see  her?  You  know  she  isn't  like 
the  wives  of  the  other  enlisted  men,  and  that 
makes  it  hard  to  help  her." 

Anita  blushed  all  over  her  delicate  face. 
She  felt  a  deep  hostility  to  Mrs.  Lawrence; 
she  had  seen  Broussard  with  her  twice,  and 
each  time  there  was  an  unaccountable  famil- 
iarity between  them.  But  women  seek  their 
antagonists  among  other  women,  and  Anita 
felt  a  secret  longing  to  know  more  about  this 
mysterious  woman. 

''Certainly  I  will  go,"  answered  Anita. 
**My  father  is  very  strict  about  letting  me 
intrude  into  the  soldier's  houses — ^he  says  it's 

119 


UNFORGETTING 

impertinent  to  force  one's  self  in,  but  I  know 
if  you  ask  me  to  go  to  see  Mrs.  Lawrence  in^ 
father  will  think  it  quite  right. ' ' 

The  Colonel  stood  firmly  by  his  chaplain, 
who  was  a  man  after  his  own  heart,  and  that 
very  afternoon  Anita  went  to  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
quarters.  The  door  was  opened  by  the  little 
boy,  Ronald,  whom  Anita  knew,  as  everybody 
else  did.  The  girl's  heart  beat  as  she  entered 
the  narrow  passage-way  in  which  she  had 
seen  Broussard  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  standing 
together,  and  it  beat  more  as  she  walked  into 
the  little  sitting-room,  where  Mrs.  Lawrence 
sat  in  an  arm  chair  at  the  window.  She  was 
evidently  ill,  and  the  knitting  she  was  trying 
to  do  had  fallen  from  her  listless  hand. 

The  Colonel's  daughter  was  much  embar- 
rassed, but  the  private  soldier's  wife  was  all 
coolness  and  composure. 

"The  chaplain  asked  me  to  come  to  see 
you,"  said  Anita,  standing  irresolute,  not 
knowing  whether  to  stay  or  to  go. 

** Thank  you  and  thank  the  chaplain  also,'* 
replied  Mrs.  Lawrence.  Then  she  courteously 
offered  Anita  a  seat. 

Anita  had  meant  to  ask  if  Mrs.  Lawrence 
needed  anything,  but  she  found  herself  as 
unable  to  say  this  to  Mrs.  Lawrence  as  to 
any  officer's  wife.  All  she  could  do  was  to 
pick  up  the  knitting  and  say : 

8  113 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 


*' Perhaps  you  will  let  me  finish  this  for 
yoii.    I  can  knit  very  well." 

It  was  a  warm  jacket  for  the  little  boy,  who 
needed  it.  Mrs.  Lawrence's  coldness  melted  a 
little. 

*' Thank  you,"  she  said,  ** there  is  not  much 
to  be  done  on  it  now." 

With  that  oblique  persuasion,  Anita  took 
up  the  jacket,  and  her  quick  fingers  made  the 
needles  fly.  Her  glance  was  keen,  and  al- 
though apparently  concentrated  on  her  work, 
she  saw  the  strange  mixture  of  plainness  and 
luxury  in  the  little  room.  The  floor  was  cov- 
ered with  a  fine  rug,  and  a  little  glass  cup- 
board shone  with  cut  glass  and  silver. 

The  two  women  talked  a  little  together  but 
Mrs.  Lawrence  showed  her  weariness  by  fall- 
ing off  to  sleep  in  the  chair.  The  little  boy 
went  quietly  out,  and  Anita  sat  knitting 
steadily  in  the  silent  room.  The  setting  sun 
shone  upon  Mrs.  Lawrence's  pale  face,  re- 
vealing a  beauty  that  neither  time  nor  grief 
nor  hardship  could  wholly  destroy. 

Involuntarily,  Anita's  eye  travelled  around 
the  strange-looking  room.  On  the  mantel  was 
a  large  photograph ;  Anita 's  heart  leaped  as 
she  recognized  it  to  be  Broussard.  It  was  evi- 
dently a  fresh  photograph,  and  a  very  fine 
one.  Broussard  stood  in  a  graceful  attitude, 
his  hand  on  his  sword,  looking  every  inch  the 
beau  sdbreur.   Anita  became  so  absorbed  that 

114 


UNFORGETTING 

her  hand  stopped  knitting ;  it  was  as  if  Brous- 
sard  himself  had  walked  into  the  room. 

Presently  she  felt,  rather  than  saw,  a  glance 
fixed  upon  her.  Mrs.  Lawrence  was  wide 
awake,  lying  back  in  her  chair,  her  dark  eyes 
bent  on  Anita,  whose  hands  lay  idle  in  her  lap. 

The  gaze  of  the  two  women  met,  for  Anita 
was  a  woman  grown  in  matters  of  the  heart. 
She  imagined  she  saw  pity  in  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
expression.  Instantly,  she  began  to  knit 
rapidly.  She  wished  to  talk  unconcernedly, 
but  the  words  would  not  come.  Broussard's 
association  with  the  pallid  woman  before  her 
was  a  painful  mystery  to  Anita.  Jealousy  is 
a  plant  that  springs  from  nothing,  and  grows 
like  Jonah's  gourd  in  the  minds  of  women. 

Anita  was  too  innocent,  too  rashly  confident 
in  the  honor  of  all  the  other  women  in  the 
world  to  think  any  wrong  of  the  woman  be- 
fore her.  But  it  was  enough  that  Mrs.  Law- 
rence knew  Broussard  well,  and  was  in  com- 
munication with  him — a  strange  thing  be- 
tween an  oflScer  and  the  wife  of  a  private  sol- 
dier, even  if  the  soldier  be  of  a  station  unusual 
in  the  ranks.  Ever  in  Anita's  heart  smould- 
ered the  joy  of  the  words  Broussard  had 
spoken  .to  her  under  thousands  of  eyes  on  that 
memorable  night  of  the  music  ride,  and  the 
sharp  pain  that  came  from  Broussard's  say- 
ing no  more. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  jacket  was  done,  and 

115 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Anita  rose.  It  required  all  her  generosity  as 
well  as  justice  to  say  to  Mrs.  Lawrence: 

'*If  I  can  do  anything  for  you,  please  let 
me  know." 

'*!  thank  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Lawrence. 
**You  have  already  done  much  for  me  and  for 
Eonald." 

Then  Anita  went  out  into  the  dusk,  and  in 
her  soul  was  rebellion.  Youth  was  made  for 
joy  and  she  was  robbed  of  her  share.  Anita 
was  scarcely  eighteen  and  deep-hearted. 

In  Mrs.  Fortescue's  room,  Anita  found  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy,  engaged  in  one  of  the  comfort- 
able chats  that  always  took  place  between  the 
Colonel's  lady  and  the  Sergeant's  wife  at  the 
Aiter-Clap's  bed-time.  As  Sergeant  McGilli- 
cuddy kept  the  Colonel  informed  of  the  hap- 
penings at  the  fort,  so  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  who 
had  great  qualifications,  and  would  have  made 
a  good  scout,  kept  Mrs.  Fortescue  informed 
of  all  the  news  at  the  fort,  from  Major  Har- 
low, the  second  in  command,  down  to  the 
smallest  drummer  boy  in  the  regiment.  Mrs. 
Fortescue  being  nothing  if  not  feminine,  she 
and  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  were  ''sisters  under 
their  skins." 

Anita's  face  was  so  grave  that  Mrs.  For- 
tescue said  to  her  tenderly — one  is  very  tender 
with  an  only  daughter: 

"Is  anything  troubling  you,  dear?" 

** Nothing  at  all, "  replied  Anita,  "I  went  to 

116 


UNFORGETTING 

see  Mrs.  Lawrence,  as  the  chaplain  asked  me, 
and  finished  a  little  jacket  she  was  knitting 
for  her  boy.    She  doesn't  seem  very  strong.'* 

*'And  I  dessay,"  said  Mrs.  McGillicuddy, 
who  had  held  Anita  in  her  arms  when  the  girl 
was  but  a  day  old,  "you  saw  all  that  cut  glass 
and  the  rugs,  as  Mr.  Broussard  give  to  Law- 
rence. Them  rugs!  They 're  fit  for  a  general's 
house.  It  seems  to  me  it  oughter  be  against 
the  regulations  for  privates  to  have  such  rugs 
when  sergeants '  wives  has  to  buy  rugs  off  the 
bargain  counter. ' ' 

Mrs.  McGillicuddy  stood  stiffly  upon  her 
rank  as  a  sergeant's  wife  and  believed  in  keep- 
ing the  soldiers'  wives  where  they  belonged. 

"I  don't  fancy  Mr.  Broussard  is  living  in 
luxury  himself  just  now,"  said  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue.  And  Mrs.  McGillicuddy 's  kind  heart, 
being  touched  with  remorse  for  having  given 
Broussard  a  pin  prick,  hastened  to  say: 

"No,  indeed,  mum,  for  McGillicuddy  heard 
Major  Harlow  readin'  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Broussard,  and  he  says  as  how  he  lives  on 
bananas  and  has  got  only  two  shirts,  and  his 
striker  has  to  wash  one  of  'em  out  every 
day  for  Mr.  Broussard  to  wear  the  next  day. 
McGillicuddy  says  that  Major  Harlow  says 
that  Mr.  Broussard  says  that  he  don't  mind 
it  a  bit,  and  he's  glad  to  see  real  service  and 
proud  to  command  the  men  that  is  with  him, 
and  they  behaves  splendid. '  * 

117 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Anita  fixed  her  eyes  on  Mrs.  McGillicuddy 's 
honest,  rubicund  face,  and  listened  breath- 
lessly as  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  continued : 

''And  Mr.  Broussard  says  the  Philippines 
is  one  big  hell  full  of  little  hells,  and  nobody 
can  get  warm  there  in  winter,  or  cool  in  sum- 
mer, but  there's  lots  of  life  to  be  seen  there, 
and  he's  a-seein'  it.  And  Blizzard  is  so  far 
away,  he  can't  sometimes  believe  there  ever 
was  such  a  place. ' ' 

Suddenly,  without  the  least  warning,  a 
quick  warm  gush  of  tears  fell  on  Anita's 
cheeks.  They  were  so  far  apart,  the  jungles 
and  the  icy  peaks,  the  palm  tree  on  the  burn- 
ing sands,  and  the  pine  tree  in  the  frozen 
mountains !  Anita  walked  quickly  out  of  the 
room.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  soft-hearted  as  she 
was  hard-handed,  looked  at  Mrs.  Fortescue. 
The  mother's  eyes  were  moist ;  Anita  was  very 
unlike  her,  but  Mrs.  Fortescue  remembered  a 
period  in  her  own  young  life  when  she,  too, 
felt  that  the  world  was  empty  because  of  the 
absence  of  the  Beloved.  And  suppose  he  had 
never  come  back?  Mrs.  Fortescue,  remem- 
bering the  brimming  cup  of  happiness  that 
had  been  hers  merely  because  the  man  she 
loved  came  back,  felt  a  little  frightened  for 
Anita.  The  girl  was  so  precocious,  so  pas- 
sionate— and  how  difficult  and  baffling  are 
tliose  women  whose  loves  are  all  passion ! 

Anita  baffled  her  mother  still  more,  by  ap- 
118 


UNFORGETTING 

pearing  an  hour  later  in  a  gay  little  gown,  and 
taking  the  After-Clap  from  his  crib  and  danc- 
ing with  him  until  he  absolutely  refused  to  go 
to  sleep.  Then,  Anita  was  in  such  high  spirits 
at  dinner  that  the  Colonel  told  Mrs.  Fortescue 
in  their  nightly  talk  while  the  Colonel  smoked, 
he  believed  Anita  had  completely  forgotten 
Broussard.  At  this,  Mrs.  Fortescue  smiled 
and  remained  as  silent  as  the  Sphinx. 

The  winter  was  slipping  by,  and  work  and 
study  and  play  went  on  in  the  snow-bound 
fort,  and  Colonel  Fortescue  was  congratulat- 
ing himself  upon  the  wonderfully  good  re- 
port he  could  made  of  his  command.  There 
had  not  been  a  man  missing  in  the  whole 
month  of  February.  But  one  day  Lawrence, 
the  gentleman-ranker,  was  reported  missing. 

The  Colonel  had  no  illusions  concerning 
broken  men  and  said  so  to  Mrs.  Fortescue. 

"The  fellow  has  deserted — that's  the  way 
most  of  the  broken  men  end.  He  was  in  the 
aviation  field  yesterday  and  his  going  away 
was  not  premeditated,  as  he  did  not  ask  for 
leave.  But  something  came  in  the  way  of 
temptation,  and  he  couldn't  stand  it,  and  ran 
away. ' ' 

The  "something"  was  revealed  by  Ser- 
geant McGillicuddy,  with  a  pale  face,  while 
he  was  shut  up  with  the  Colonel  in  his  office. 

"It's  partly  my  fault,  sir,"  said  the  Ser- 
geant.   '  *  The  fellow  has  been  doing  his  duty 

119 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

pretty  well,  and  yesterday,  on  the  aviation 
field,  the  aviation  orficer  was  praisin'  him  for 
his  work.  You  know,  sir,  how  I  likes  the  ma- 
chines and  studies  'em  at  odd  times.  The 
flyin'  was  over  and  there  wasn't  anybody 
around  the  sheds  but  Lawrence  and  me.  I 
was  lookin'  at  his  machine,  and,  no  doubt, 
botherin'  him,  an  he  says  sharp-like : 

*'  'You  can't  understand  these  machines. 
It  takes  an  educated  man  like  me  to  under- 
stand 'em.  They're  more  complicated  than 
buggies.'  That  made  me  mad,  sir,  and  I 
says,  'That's  no  way  to  speak  to  your 
Sergeant.'  'You  go  to  the  devil,'  says 
Lawrence.  'You'll  get  ten  days  in  the  guard 
house  for  that,'  I  says.  Then  Lawrence 
seemed  to  grow  crazy,  all  at  once.  'Yes,'  he 
shouts,  like  a  lunatic,  'that's  a  fit  punishment 
for  a  gentleman.  You'll  see  to  it.  Sergeant, 
that  I  get  ten  days  in  the  guard  house,  and 
my  wife  breakin'  her  heart  with  shame, 
and  the  other  children  tauntin'  my  boy!' 
With  that,  sir,  he  hit  me  on  the  side  of  the 
head  with  his  fist.  I  was  so  unprepared  that 
it  knocked  me  down,  but  I  saw  Lawrence 
runnin'  toward  the  station.  I  picked  myself 
up  and  went  and  sat  down  on  the  bench  out- 
side the  sheds  to  think  what  I  ought  to  do.  I 
knew,  as  well  as  I  know  now,  that  Lawrence 
was  runnin'  away^  and  I  had  drove  him  to  it. 
But  I  swear,  sir,  before  my  Colonel  and  my 

120 


UNFORGETTING 

Gad,  that  I  didn't  mean  to  make  Lawrence 
mad,  or  misuse  him  in  any  way.  You  know 
my  record,  sir.'' 

**Yes,"  answered  Colonel  Fortescue,  his 
pity  divided  among  Lawrence  and  his  wife, 
and  the  honest,  well-meaning  McGillicuddy, 
who  had  brought  about  a  catastrophe. 


"For  God's  sake,  sir,'*  said  McGillicuddy, 
wiping  his  forehead,  "be  as  easy  on  Lawrence 
as  you  can,  and  give  me  a  day — two  days — 
leave  to  hunt  him  up. ' ' 

This  the  Colonel  did,  warning  McGillicuddy 
not  to  repeat  what  had  occurred  on  the  avia- 
tion plain. 

The  Sergeant  got  his  leave,  and  another  two 
days,  all  spent  in  hunting  for  Lawrence. 
There  was  nowhere  for  him  to  go  except  to 

131 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

the  little  collection  of  houses  at  the  railway 
station.  No  one  had  seen  Lawrence  board 
the  train  that  passed  once  a  day,  but  a  man, 
even  in  uniform,  can  sometimes  slip  aboard 
a  train  without  being  seen.  The  Sergeant 
came  back,  looking  woe-begone,  and  Lawrence 
was  published  on  the  bulletin  board  as  "ab- 
sent without  leave. '  * 

The  shock  of  Lawrence's  departure  quite 
overcame  his  unhappy  wife.  She  took  to  her 
bed  and  had  not  strength  to  leave  it. 

Sergeant  McGillicuddy  begged  that  he  might 
be  allowed  to  tell  to  the  chaplain  the  provoca- 
tion he  had  given  Lawrence,  who  might  tell 
Mrs.  Lawrence.  The  blow  struck  by  Lawrence 
was  the  act  of  a  mad  impulse,  and  having 
struck  an  officer,  Lawrence  might  well  fear  to 
face  the  punishment.  This  the  Colonel  per- 
mitted, and  the  chaplain,  sitting  by  Mrs. 
Lawrence 's  bed,  told  her  of  it,  and  of  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy 's  remorse.  Until  then,  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  lying  in  her  bed,  had  remained 
strangely  tearless,  although  a  faint  moan 
sometimes  escaped  her  lips.  At  the  chaplain 's 
words  she  suddenly  burst  into  a  rain  of  tears. 

"My  husband  never  meant  to  desert,"  she 
cried  between  her  sobs.  "He  was  doing  his 
duty  well — ^his  own  Sergeant  said  so.  He 
must  have  been  crazy  when  he  struck  the 
blow!" 

"Poor  McGillicuddy,"  said  the  chaplain 

122 


UNFORGETTING 

quietly.  **The  Colonel  has  forbidden  him  to 
speak  of  it  to  any  one,  and  he  is  breaking  his 
heart  over  it. ' ' 

No  word  of  forgiveness  came  from  Mrs. 
Lawrence's  lips. 

"It  is  the  way  with  all  of  them,  officers  and 
men,  they  were  all  down  on  my  husband  be- 
cause they  thought  he  had  done  something 
wrong,"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  with  the  divine, 
unreasoning  love  of  a  devoted  woman. 

**Mr.  Broussard  was  not  down  on  your  hus- 
band, ' '  said  the  chaplain. 

"True,"  replied  Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  then 
shut  her  lips  close.  If  any  one  wished  to 
know  the  secret  bond  between  Broussard  and 
Lawrence,  one  could  never  find  it  out  from 
Mrs.  Lawrence. 

Sergeant  McGillicuddy  could  keep  from 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  the  details  of  what  had  oc- 
curred on  the  aviation  field,  but  he  could  not 
conceal  from  her  the  fact  that  he  was  unhappy 
and  conscience-stricken.  All  he  would  say  to 
his  wife  was : 

"I've  done  a  man  a  wrong.  I  never  meant 
it,  as  both  God  and  the  Colonel  know."  Mc- 
Gillicuddy had  a  way  of  bracketing  the  Deity 
with  commanding  officers,  and  did  it  with 
much  simplicity  and  meant  no  irreverence. 

"And  I  know  it  too,  Patrick,"  replied  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy,  with  the  faith  of  a  true  wife  in 
her  husband. 

iss 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

"I'd  tell  you  all  about  it,  Araminta,"  said 
the  poor  Sergeant,  *'but  tiie  Colonel  forbid 
me,  and  orders  is  orders." 

**I  know  it,"  answered  Mrs.  McGillicuddy, 
**and  I'll  trust  you,  Patrick,  I  won't  ever  ask 
you  the  name  because  I  can  guess  it  easy.  It's 
Lawrence." 

The  Sergeant  groaned. 

**If  you  can  do  anything  for  Mrs.  Law- 
rence," he  said,  "or  the  boy " 

"I'll  do  it,"  valiantly  replied  Mrs.  McG-illi- 
cuddy,  and  straightway  put  her  good  words 
into  effect. 

Lawrence  had  then  been  missing  five  days. 
It  was  seven  o  'clock  in  the  evening,  and  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy  had  already  put  the  After-Clap 
to  bed  when  she  started  for  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
quarters.  There  was  no  one  to  open  the  door, 
and  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  walked  uncere- 
moniously into  the  little  sitting-room,  where 
the  boy  sat,  silent  and  lonely  and  frightened, 
by  the  window.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  spoke  a 
cheery  word  to  him,  and  then  passed  into  the 
bedroom  beyond.  The  light  was  dim  but  she 
could  see  Mrs.  Lawrence  lying,  fully  dressed, 
on  the  bed.  At  the  sight  of  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy she  turned  her  face  away. 

"Come  now,"  said  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  un- 
dauntedly, "I  think  I  know  why  you  don't 
want  to  see  me.  Well,  Patrick  McGillicuddy 
is  as  good  a  man  as  wears;  shoe-leather,  but 

124, 


UNFORGETTING 

every  Sergeant  that  ever  lived  has  made  some 
sort  of  a  mistake  in  his  life.  So  Patrick  wants 
me  to  do  all  I  can  for  you  until  something 
turns  up,  and  I  hope  that  something  will  be 
your  hushand — and  my  husband  will  be 
mighty  easy  on  him  at  the  court-martial/* 

Mrs.  Lawrence  made  no  reply.  Then  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy  went  into  the  little  kitchen,  and 
stirring  up  the  fire  soon  had  a  comfortable 
meal  ready,  and  calling  to  the  little  boy,  gave 
him  his  fi,rst  good  supper  in  the  five  days  that 
had  passed  since  his  father  came  no  more. 

**  You'd  feel  sorry  for  McGillicuddy  if  you 
could  see  him,"  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  kept  on, 
ignoring  Mrs.  Lawrence 's  cold  silence.  *  *  And 
recollect,  if  you  feel  sorry  for  your  husband, 
I  feel  sorry  for  mine.  'Taint  right  to  keep 
the  little  feller  here  while  you  can't  lift  a  hand 
to  do  for  him,  so  I'm  goin'  to  take  him  to  my 
house,  with  my  eight  children,  because  there's 
luck  in  odd  numbers,  and  I'll  feed  him  up, 
pore  little  soul,  and  wash  him  and  mend  him, 
and  start  him  to  playin'  with  Ignatius  and 
Aloysius,  for  children  ought  to  play,  and 
Patrick  '11  come  every  morning  and  start  your 
fire,  although  he  is  a  Sergeant,  and  we  want 
to  help  you,  and  you  must  help  us." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  was  not  made  of  stone,  and 
could  not  forever  resist  Mrs.  McGillicuddy 's 
kindness,  and  so  it  came  about  that  the  Mc- 
Gillicuddys   took  oare  of  Lawrence's   boy, 

125 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

whose  face  grew  round  and  rosy  with  the 
generous  McGillicuddy  fare.  A  part  of  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy's  good  will  to  him  was  that  she 
instructed  Ignatius  and  Aloysius  McGilli- 
cuddy, both  excellent  fist  fighters  for  their 
age,  that  they  were  to  lick  any  boy,  no  matter 
what  his  age  or  size,  who  dared  to  taunt  little 
Eonald  about  his  father  or  anything  else. 
These  orders  were  extremely  agreeable  to  the 
McGillicuddy  boys,  who  loved  fighting  for 
fighting's  sake,  and  who  sought  occasions  to 
practise  the  manly  art. 

Colonel  Fortescue  sent  word  to  Mrs. 
Lawrence  that  she  could  occupy  her  quar- 
ters until  she  was  able  to  make  some  plan 
for  the  future.  It  seemed,  however,  utterly 
indefinite  when  Mrs.  Lawrence  would  be  able 
to  plan  anything.  She  lay  in  her  bed  or  sat 
in  her  chair,  silent,  pale,  and  as  weak  as  a 
child.  The  blow  of  her  husband's  desertion 
seemed  to  have  stopped  all  the  springs  of 
action.  Neither  the  chaplain,  the  post-sur- 
geon, nor  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  singly  or  united, 
could  rouse  Mrs.  Lawrence  from  the  deadly 
lassitude  of  a  broken  heart.  Both  the  chap- 
Iain  and  the  surgeon  had  seen  such  cases,  and 
nothing  in  the  pharmacopoeia  could  cure  them. 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  whose  heart  was  not  less 
tender  from  long  dwelling  on  the  airy  heights 
of  happiness  and  perfect  love,  was  full  of 
sympathy  for  Lawrence's  unfortunate  wife, 

128 


UNFORGETTING 

and  would  have  gone  to  see  her,  but  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy,  who  delivered  the  message, 
brought  back  a  discouraging  reply. 

*'She  says,  mum,  as  she  don't  need  nothin' 
at  all,  and  I  think,  mum,  she  kinder  shrinks 
from  the  orficers'  wives  more  than  from  the 
soldiers '  wives. ' ' 

Anita,  who  was  sitting  by,  went  to  her 
mother  and,  putting  her  arms  around  Mrs. 
Fortescue  's  neck,  whispered : 

*' Mother,  let  me  go  to  see  Mrs.  Lawrence. 
I  don't  think  she  will  mind  seeing  me.  You 
and  daddy  are  always  telling  me  that  I  am 
only  a  child. ' ' 

Mrs.  Fortescue  took  Anita  in  her  lap,  as  if 
the  girl  were  indeed  the  age  of  the  After-Clap. 

*'Do  what  you  like,  dear  child,"  she  said. 
*  *  Girls  like  you  can  do  some  things  that  women 
can't,  because  you  have  the  enormous  advan- 
tage of  not  knowing  anything." 


CHAPTER  VI 

SOME  LETTERS  AND  KETTLE'S 
ENLISTMENT 

Anita,  who  could  plan  things  quite  as  well 
as  if  she  were  forty  instead  of  eighteen,  bided 
her  time  until  the  hour  when  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy  was  putting  the  After-Clap  to  bed. 
Then  the  girl  slipped  away  and  took  the  road 
to  the  long  street  of  the  married  men's  quar- 
ters. An  icy  fog  swept  from  the  Arctic 
Circle,  enveloped  the  world,  hiding  both  moon 
and  stars,  and  made  the  great  arc  lamps  look 
like  little  points  of  light  in  the  great  ocean 
of  white  mist.  Every  step  of  the  way  Anita's 
heart  and  will  battled  fiercely  together. 
Broussard  knew  Mrs.  Lawrence  in  some  mys- 
terious way.  Perhaps  he  had  loved  her  once ; 
Anita  was  all  a  woman,  and  at  seventeen  was 
learned  in  the  affairs  of  the  heart. 

This  woman,  however,  between  whom  and 
Broussard  some  strong  link  was  forged,  Anita 
knew  not  when,  nor  how,  nor  where,  was  ill 
and  poor  and  suffering,  and  Anita's  natural 
inclinations  were  merciful.  Besides,  she  had 
been  taught  by  her  father  and  mother  the 
great  lessons  of  life  in  kindness  and  tender- 
ness. She  had  seen  her  father  give  up  a  party 
of  pleasure  to  walk  behind  the  pine  coffin  of  a 

128 


SOME  LETTERS 

private  soldier,  and  her  mother  had  robbed 
her  greenhouse  of  its  choicest  blossoms  to  lay 
a  wreath  on  a  soldier's  grave. 

By  instinct,  rather  than  sight,  Anita  stopped 
in  front  of  the  right  door  and  met  the  chap- 
lain coming  out. 

* '  Glad  to  see  you,  Anita, ' '  said  the  chaplain, 
who  was  muffled  up  to  his  eyes.  * '  Go  in  and 
talk  to  that  poor  lady.  We  all  want  to  help 
her,  but  we  find  it  hard,  for  she  will  tell  noth- 
ing of  herself,  of  her  family,  or  anything,  ex- 
cept that  she  knows  Lawrence  didn't  mean 
to  desert,  and  will  yet  report  himself.'* 

In  the  plain  little  bedroom  Mrs.  Lawrence 
lay,  on  her  bed,  the  shaded  electric  light  by 
her  bedside  showing  her  thin  face,  made  more 
pallid  by  the  great  braids  of  lustrous  black 
hair  that  fell  about  her.  A  look  of  faint  sur- 
prise came  into  her  languid  eyes  as  Anita 
drew  a  chair  to  her  bed  and  took  her  hand. 

**My  mother  sent  me,"  Anita  said,  gently, 
*'to  ask  if  I  could  do  anything  for  you." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  murmured  her  thanks,  and 
then  hesitated  for  a  moment,  the  words 
trembling  upon  her  lips. 

**Yes,"  she  said,  **you  can  do  something 
for  me.  Something  I  haven't  asked  anybody 
to  do.  I  tried  to  ask  the  chaplain  just  now — 
he  is  a  kind  man,  and  tries  to  help  me  but  for 
Some  reason  my  courage  failed;  I  don't  know 

9  1^ 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

why,  but  I  didn't  ask  him.  It  is,  to  write  a 
letter  for  me. ' ' 

"Certainly  I  will  write  a  letter  for  you," 
said  Anita. 

''It  is  to  Mr.  Broussard,"  answered  Mrs. 
Lawrence. 

The  thought  of  writing  to  Broussard 
startled  and  overwhelmed  Anita.  She  glanced 
about  her  nervously,  fearing  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
words  had  been  overheard,  and  stanmaered 
and  blushed.  But  the  woman,  lying  wan  and 
weak  in  the  bed,  did  not  notice  this. 

"I  am  not  strong  enough  to  dictate  it  ex- 
actly as  I  want,'*  said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  *'and 
you  will  have  to  write  it  at  your  own  home. 
But  I  am  very  anxious  for  you  to  write  to 
Mr.  Broussard  for  me  and  tell  him  that  my 
husband  is  missing  and  will  soon  be  posted 
as  a  deserter;  that  I  don't  know  where  he  is, 
but  I  am  sure  he  will  return.  Don't  tell  Mr. 
Broussard  how  ill  I  am,  but  just  say  that  the 
Colonel  has  let  me  stay  on  here,  and  the  boy  is 
well.  Mr.  Broussard  is  my  husband's  best 
friend;  they  were  playmates  in  boyhood." 

A  dead  silence  fell  between  the  woman  and 
the  girl  and  lasted  for  some  minutes.  Anita 
was  already  composing  the  letter  in  her  mind. 

''Perhaps  before  I  go  I  can  do  something 
else  for  you,"  she  said  presently. 

"No,  everything  has  been  done  for  me,  and 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  brings  the  boy  over  every 

130 


SOME  LETTERS 

night  to  tell  me  good-night.  What  you  can 
do  for  me  is  to  write  the  letter,  as  I  asked  you, 
and  post  it  to-night.  It  can 't  reach  Mr.  Brous- 
sard  in  less  than  a  month,  perhaps  two  months. 
The  last  letter  I  received  from  him  he  was  in 
some  wild  place  a  long  distance  from  Guam, 
but  he  will  get  the  letter  eventually,  if  he 
lives." 

Anita  rose  and  walked  back  home  through 
the  icy  mist.  Mrs.  Fortescue  was  in  the 
shaded  drawing-room  seated  at  her  harp, 
playing  soft  chords  and  arpeggios,  with 
Colonel  Fortescue  leaning  over  her  chair.  It 
was  a  picture  Anita  had  often  seen,  and  at 
those  times,  from  her  childhood  and  from 
Beverley's,  they  were  made  to  feel  that  they 
were  secondary,  and  even  the  After-Clap  was 
superfluous.  Nevertheless,  Anita  walked  into 
the  room.  The  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue 
started  apart  like  young  lovers. 

*'I  have  been  to  see  Mrs.  Lawrence,^'  said 
Anita,  ' '  and  she  asked  me  if  I  would  write  a 
letter  for  her.  She  didn't,  of  course,  tell  me 
not  to  say  anything  about  it  to  you,  mother 
and  daddy,  but  I  would  rather  not  tell  you  to 
whom  the  letter  is  to  be  written.  You  must 
trust  me,  my  own  dear  daddy.  It  is  a  very 
simple  letter,  just  to  say  that  Lawrence  has 
disappeared  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  the  little 
boy  are  in  kind  hands." 

**0f    course    we    trust    you,"    answered 

131 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Colonel  Fortescue,  smiling.    *' You  are  a  very 
trusty  person,  Anita/' 

*'Like  my  father  and  mother,"  answered 
Anita,  and  ran  out  of  the  room.  As  they 
heard  her  light  step  tripping  up  the  stairs, 
the  father  and  mother  looked  at  each  other 
with  troubled  eyes. 

*'It  is  to  Broussard,'*  said  the  Colonel,  re- 
membering his  last  interview  with  him.  **I 
think  Broussard  steadily  befriended  Law- 
rence and  his  wife." 

Mrs.  Fortescue 's  candid  eyes  grew  clouded. 

**It  is  a  strange  intimacy,"  she  said. 

**It's  all  right,"  unhesitatingly  replied  the 
Colonel. 

*'0h,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Fortescue,  touching 
the  harpstrings,  ^'If  you  are  fomenting  a  love 
affair  between  Anita  at  Fort  Blizzard  and 
Broussard  in  the  tropics,  it  is  your  affair." 

"Elizabeth,"  said  the  Colonel,  '*I  am  not  a 
person  to  foment  love  affairs,  or  any  other 
private  and  personal  affairs." 

*'I  said  if  you  were  fomenting  a  love  affair, 
John,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue;  and  then  there 
was  no  more  music  from  the  harp,  the  Colonel 
going  into  his  office  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  to  the 
After-Clap's  nursery. 

In  her  own  little  room  Anita  was  already 
hard  at  work  on  her  letter  to  Broussard.  It 
was  a  very  short  and  simple  letter,  telling 
exactly,  and  only,  what  Mrs.  Lawrence  had 

133 


SOME  LETTERS 

asked,  and  it  was  signed  "Sincerely  Yours." 
But  when  it  was  to  be  sealed  Anita's  insurgent 
heart  cried  out  to  be  heard,  and  she  added  a 
little  postscript,  w^hich  read : 

*  'Gamechick  is  very  well  and  sends  his  love. 
I  ride  him  nearly  every  day." 

Anita  would  not  trust  her  precious  letter 
to  the  mail  orderly,  or  even  Sergeant  McGilli- 
cuddy  or  Kettle,  t3ut  throwing  her  crimson 
mantle  around  her,  she  slipped  out,  in  the  cold 
mist,  to  the  letter  box.  For  one  moment  she 
held  the  letter  poised  in  her  hand  before  it 
took  its  flight  toward  the  tropics;  Anita's 
tender  heart  went  with  the  letter. 

A  fortnight  later,  the  March  sun  having 
come  in  place  of  the  February  snows,  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy  succeeded  in  dragging  Mrs. 
Lawrence  out  of  doors,  one  day  about  noon, 
and  after  placing  her  on  a  bench  in  the  glow 
of  the  light,  went  off  to  look  after  the  eight 
McGillicuddys,  the  little  Lawrence  boy,  and 
the  After-Clap,  none  of  whom  could  have  got 
on  without  her.  Colonel  Fortescue,  coming 
out  of  the  headquarters  building,  and  going 
to  his  own  house,  passed  Mrs.  Lawrence,  sit- 
ting on  the  bench.  The  Colonel,  who  knew 
her  well  enough  by  sight,  raised  his  cap 
and,  stopping  a  moment,  asked  courteously 
after  her  health. 

"I  am  better,"  replied  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
"and  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  kindness 

133 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

in  letting  me  stay  in  the  quarters.  I  will  not 
trespass  any  longer  than  I  can  help." 

*'May  I  ask,"  said  the  Colonel,  kindly,  "if 
you  have  any  friends  with  whom  I  could  help 
you  to  communicate  ? ' ' 

Mrs.  Lawrence  smiled  as  she  answered : 

*'I  have  relatives,  if  that  is  what  you  mean. 
But  I  do  not  care  to  communicate  with  them. 
Please  understand  me  that  I  do  not,  for 
a  moment,  admit  that  my  husband  is  a 
deserter." 

*'I  wish  I  could  think  he  was  not,"  said 
Colonel  Fortescue,  "but  unfortunately,  his 
misconduct " 

Colonel  Fortescue  caught  himself;  he  had 
done  what  he  seldom  did — used  the  wrong 
word.  Mrs.  Lawrence  struggled  feebly  to  her 
feet,  the  divine  obstinacy  of  a  loving  woman 
shining  in  her  melancholy  eyes. 

"Stop!"  she  cried,  "I  can't  allow  any  one, 
even  the  Colonel  of  the  regiment,  to  disparage 
my  husband  before  my  face." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Colonel  Fortes- 
cue, "I  regret  the  word  I  used." 

Mrs.  Lawrence,  inclining  her  head,  sank, 
rather  than  sat,  upon  the  bench. 

"Perhaps  I  should  not  have  spoken  so,** 
she  said,  in  a  composed  voice,  "as  my  hus- 
band was  only  a  private,  and  you  are  the 
Colonel;  but  I  think  you  understand  that  I 
was  neither  bom  nor  reared  to  this  position." 

134 


SOME  LETTERS 

**I  do  understand,"  replied  Colonel  Fortes- 
cue,  *'and  some  one  has  done  you  a  very  great 
wrong  in  bringing  you  to  this  post ;  but  you 
may  depend  upon  it  that  neither  you  nor  your 
child  shall  suffer  for  the  present,  and  I  hope 
you  will  soon  be  well. ' ' 

*'It  is  my  heart  that  is  more  ill  than  my 
body,"  replied  Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  the 
Colonel  passed  on. 

The  tragedy  of  a  desertion  is  very  great, 
and  as  Colonel  Fortescue  said,  tragedies  grow 
more  intense  in  the  fierce  cold  of  winter,  and 
Mrs.  Lawrence  and  the  beautiful  little  boy 
were,  in  themselves,  living  tragedies.  Ser- 
geant McGillicuddy,  too,  had  a  tragic  aspect. 
In  spite  of  all  the  Colonel  could  say,  the 
Sergeant  still  accused  himself  of  being  the 
cause  of  Lawrence's  desertion.  McGilli- 
cuddy's  bronzed  face,  like  a  hickory  nut,  grew 
so  haggard,  his  self-reproaches  so  piteous, 
that  Colonel  Fortescue  thought  it  well  to  give 
him  a  positive  order  to  say  nothing  of  the 
circumstances  that  led  up  to  Lawrence's  strik- 
ing him.  The  Sergeant  begged  to  be  allowed 
to  tell  the  chaplain  about  it;  to  this  Colonel 
Fortescue  consented,  and  McGillicuddy  had  a 
long  conversation  with  the  chaplain. 

*'The  Colonel  says,  sir,"  McGillicuddy  de- 
clared mournfully  to  the  chaplain, ' '  as  it  is  the 
damned  climate, — excuse  me,  sir, — that  makes 
everybody  queer." 

135 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

''I'll  excuse  you,"  replied  the  chaplain, 
who  had  the  same  opinion  of  the  Arctic  cold 
as  Colonel  Fortescue.  * '  I  think  the  cold  gets 
on  men's  nerves  and  makes  them  queer." 

However,  the  chaplain  had  the  power  to 
console,  and  McGillicuddy  became  a  trifle 
more  resigned,  and  even  had  a  faint  hope  of 
Lawrence's  return,  caught  from  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy's  report  of  Mrs.  Lawrence's  fixed  be- 
lief that  Lawrence  would  come  back  and  give 
himself  up.  One  great  consolation  to  the 
Sergeant  was,  to  spend  a  large  part  of  his  pay 
in  comforts  for  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  clothes 
and  books  and  toys  for  the  little  Ronald.  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy,  who  had  reasoned  out  a  very 
good  solution  of  McGillicuddy '&  troubles, 
encouraged  him  in  his  kindness  to  Mrs. 
Lawrence  and  the  boy,  so  that  the  old  rule  of 
God  making  the  devil  work  for  Him  was  again 
illustrated;  much  good  came  to  those  whom 
Lawrence  had  deserted. 

The  chaplain  thought  it  a  good  time  to 
preach  a  sermon  on  loyalty,  and  on  the  very 
Sunday  after  Colonel  Fortescue  had  talked 
with  Mrs.  Lawrence,  the  congregation  that 
crowded  the  chapel  heard  an  exposition  of 
what  loyalty  meant,  especially  loyalty  to  one's 
country.  Among  the  most  attentive  listeners 
was  Kettle,  whose  honest  black  face  glowed 
when  the  chaplain  proclaimed  that  every  man 
owed  it  to  his  country  to  defend  it,  if  required. 

136 


NBITHEB  TOXT  NOR  YOUR  CHILD  SHALL  8UFPEB 
jrOB  THE  present" 


SOME  LETTERS 

When  the  congregation  streamed  out  of  the 
chapel,  Mrs.  Fortescue  stopped  a  moment  to 
congratulate  the  chaplain  on  his  sermon.  Be- 
hind her  stood  Kettle,  who  was  never  very 
far  away  from  ''Miss  Betty." 

"I  listen  to  that  sermon,  suh,"  said  Kettle, 
earnestly,  to  the  chaplain.  ' '  and  it  cert'ny  wuz 
a  corker,  suh." 

"That  is  high  praise,"  answered  the  chap- 
lain, *'I  would  rather  an  enlisted  man  should 
tell  me  that  a  sermon  of  mine  was  a  corker, 
than  for  the  archbishop  of  the  archdiocese 
to  write  me  a  personal  letter  of  praise." 

Just  then  the  chaplain,  who  was  accused  of 
having  eyes  in  the  back  of  his  head,  saw  some- 
thing directly  behind  him.  No  less  than  four 
of  the  seven  McGillicuddy  boys  were  altar 
boys,  wearing  little  red  cassocks  and  white 
surplices  in  church.  They  were  supposed  to 
leave  the  cassocks  and  surplices  in  the  sac- 
risty, but  Ignatius  McGillicuddy,  aged  ten, 
had  sneaked  out  of  tlie  sacristy,  still  wearing 
his  red  cassock,  and,  seeing  the  chaplain  pass- 
ing out  of  the  gate,  thought  it  safe  to  begin 
an  elaborate  skirt  dance,  in  his  cassock,  and 
making  many  fancy  steps,  with  much  high 
kicking,  while  the  skirt  of  his  cassock  waved 
in  the  air.  In  the  midst  of  his  final  pirouette, 
he  caught  the  chaplain's  stern  glance  fixed  on 
him.  Instantly  Ignatius  appeared  to  turn  to 
stone,  and  the  vision  of  a  switch,  wielded  by 

139 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Mrs.  McGrillicuddy's  robust  arm,  passed 
before  his  eyes.  He  was  immensely  relieved 
when  tlie  chaplain  said,  grimly: 

''Ten  pages  of  catechism  next  Sunday." 

Kettle  went  home  and  was  very  solemn  all 
day.  Not  even  the  After-Clap 's  pranks  could 
make  him  smile,  nor  were  the  After-Clap's 
orders  always  orders  to  him  that  day.  In  the 
late  afternoon  Mrs.  Fortescue,  seeing  Kettle 
seated  in  a  corner  of  the  back  hall,  and  evi- 
dently in  an  introspective  mood,  asked  him : 

''"What's  been  the  matter  with  you  all  day, 
Kettle?" 

"I'm  a-seekin'.  Miss  Betty,"  Kettle  re- 
plied solemnly. 

"Wliat  are  you  seeking?"  Mrs.  Fortescue 
inquired. 

"Seekin'  light.  Miss  Betty,"  answered 
Kettle.  "I'm  seekin'  light  on  my  duty  to  my 
country,  arter  the  chaplain  done  preached 
to-day." 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  responded  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue "Your  duty  at  present  is  to  look  after 
the  baby  and  me. ' ' 

' '  Gord  knows  I  does  the  bes '  I  kin, ' '  replied 
Kettle,  raising  his  eyes,  full  of  faith  and  love 
and  simplicity,  to  Mrs.  Fortescue 's.  "But 
the  chaplain,  he  say  we  orter  fight  for  our 
country;  maybe  at  this  heah  v^ry  minute  I 
orter  be  a-settin*  on  a  boss,  a-shootin*  down 
the  enemies  of  my  country." 

140 


SOME  LETTERS 

"Well,  Kettle,"  said  Mrs.  Fortescue,  laugh- 
ing, **as  you  can't  ride  and  you  can't  shoot, 
I  don 't  think  you  will  ever  do  much  damage  to 
the  enemies  of  your  country. ' ' 

Mrs.  Fortescue  passed  on,  laughing.  But 
some  one  else  had  heard  Kettle.  This  was 
Sergeant  Halligan,  a  chum  of  Sergeant  Mc- 
Gillicuddy,  who  had  stopped  at  the  Command- 
ant's house  on  an  errand.  Sergeant  Halligan, 
seeing  no  one  around  in  that  part  of  the  house, 
winked  to  himself,  and  went  up  to  *'the  nay- 
gur,"  as  he,  like  Sergeant  McGillicuddy 
called  Kettle. 

''I  say,"  said  the  sergeant,  in  a  whisper, 
"you're  right  about  the  chaplain's  sermon. 
It's  the  duty  of  every  man  who  can  carry  a 
gun  to  fight  for  his  country.  I  saw  the  chap- 
lain looking  straight  at  you,  and  he  was  as 
mad  as  fire.  A  white-livered  coward  stands  a 
mighty  poor  chanst  of  salvation,  is  what  the 
chaplain  tliinks." 

"Does  you  mean  that?"  anxiously  asked 
Kettle. 

"Don't  I?"  responded  Sergeant  Halligan, 
confidently.  "Maybe  you  think  it's  hard 
lines  to  have  to  drill  all  day  and  walk  post 
all  night,  but  it's  a  merry  jest  compared  with 
burning  in  hell  fire.  I  'd  ruther  drill  and  walk 
post  all  my  life  than  find  myself  in  the  lake  of 
brimstone  and  sulphur  that's  a-waitin'  for 
cowards. ' ' 

141 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

**Tain't  the  drill  and  the  walkin'  post  as 
skeers  me,"  said  Kettle,  ''but  I  ain't  noways 
fond  of  guns.  If  it  wasn't  for  them  devilish 
guns  I'd  enlist,  pertickler  if  they'd  let  me 
stay  with  Miss  Betty  and  the  baby." 

' '  Sure  they  would, ' '  replied  the  artful  Hal- 
ligan  with  a  wink.  ''The  Colonel  wouldn't 
disoblige  his  lady.  You'd  be  detailed  to  work 
around  the  house  here,  and  you'd  look  grand 
in  uniform." 

'/You  think  so?"  said  Kettle,  with  a  de- 
lighted grin,  "I  always  did  have  a  kinder 
honin'  after  them  yaller  stripes  down  my 
legs." 

"And  a  sabre  and  a  sabretache,"  continued 
the  Sergeant.  Times  were  sometimes  dull  at 
Fort  Blizzard,  and  the  men  in  the  barracks 
could  get  a  good  many  laughs  out  of  Kettle  as 
a  soldier. 

The  yellow  stripes  down  his  legs  and  the 
sabre  and  sabretache  were  dazzling  to  Kettle, 
But  an  objection  rose  on  the  horizon. 

"How  'bout  them  bosses!"  he  asked,  "I 
ain't  never  been  on  no  boss  sence  the  time 
when  I  wuz  a  little  shaver,  and  the  Kun'l — he 
wasn't  nothin'  but  a  lieutenant  then — wuz 
courtin'  Miss  Betty,  and  he  pick  me  up  and  put 
me  on  a  boss  he  call  Birdseye.  Lord!  It  makes 
me  feel  creepy  now,  to  tink  'bout  that  boss !" 

"Oh,  you  needn't  bother  about  horses," 
answered   the   Sergeant,   cheerfully.    "The 

143 


SOME  LETTERS 

Colonel  could  manage  that,  and  you  can  weax 
your  uniform  just  the  same.'* 

"I  reckon  I  could  ride  a  gentle  hoss,"  ven- 
tured Kettle. 

'*  'Course,'*  replied  the  Sergeant  con- 
fidently, *'I  think  I  can  manage  it  with  the 
orficer  in  charge  of  mounts.  I  could  get  the 
milkman's  hoss  for  you.  She  is  twenty-three 
years  old  and  as  quiet  as  an  old  maid  of 
seventy-five;  she  wouldn't  run  away  or  kick, 
not  even  if  you  was  to  build  a  fire  under  her. ' ' 

This  seemed  to  dispose  of  the  great  difl&- 
culty  in  Kettle's  mind,  when  the  Sergeant 
suggested  that  he  would  see  the  milkman  that 
very  evening,  and  at  nine  o'clock  the  next 
morning,  he  would  go  to  the  officer  in  charge 
of  mounts,  and  by  ten  o'clock  Kettle,  as  soon 
as  he  had  finished  washing  up  the  breakfast 
things  and  had  taken  the  After-Clap  for  his 
airing  in  the  baby  carriage,  could  step  down 
to  the  recruiting  office  and  enlist. 

Everything  looked  rosy  to  Kettle.  That 
night,  at  dinner,  Kettle  was  radiant  and  in- 
formed Mrs.  Fortescue,  between  the  fish  and 
the  roast,  that  he  had  ''done  found  his  duty 
and  was  a-goin'  to  do  it." 

Mrs.  Fortescue  had  some  curiosity  to  know 
what  this  new  duty  of  Kettle's  was,  but  Kettle 
maintained  a  mysterious  silence,  only  admit- 
ting that  it  would  not  take  him  away  from 
**Miss  Betty  and  the  baby." 

143 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Next  morning,  however,  in  the  cold  light  of 
day,  the  proposition  had  lost  something  of  its 
charms  for  Kettle.  The  yellow  stripes  down 
his  legs  did  not  appear  quite  so  overwhelm- 
ingly fascinating.  He  remembered  that  Ser- 
geant McGillicuddy  was  afraid  to  ride  in  the 
buggy  behind  the  milkman *s  horse.  Sergeant 
Halligan  did  not  give  Kettle  any  time  to  re- 
pent of  his  decision,  and  promptly  appeared 
at  ten  o'clock  and  escorted  Kettle  to  the  re- 
cruiting office.  The  recruiting  sergeant  was 
on  hand  and  Sergeant  Halligan  explained 
Kettle's  martial  enthusiasm.  Something  like 
a  wink  passed  between  Sergeant  Halligan  and 
Grully,  the  recruiting  sergeant,  who  agreed  to 
enlist  Kettle,  under  the  name  of  Solomon 
Ezekiel  Pickup,  as  a  unit  in  the  army  of  the 
United  States. 

A  sudden  illumination  came  to  Kettle. 
**You  c'yam'  enlist  me  in  no  white  regi- 
ment,'* cried  Kettle  to  Sergeant  Halligan, 
*'I'm  a  nigger  and  you  have  to  put  me  in  a 
nigger  regiment. ' ' 

*'0h,  that's  all  right,"  responded  Sergeant 
Halligan,  airily, ' '  we  can  get  you  in  all  right, 
and  we'll  be  proud  to  have  you.  Won't  we, 
Gully?'* 

*' Certainly, "  replied  Sergeant  Gully,  **we 
can  fix  that  up.    It's  fixed  up  already.'* 

The  rapidity  of  the  proceedings  rather 
startled  Kettle. 


SOME  LETTERS 

"But  doan'  the  doctor  have  to  thump  me, 
and  pound  me,  and  count  my  teeth  ?' '  he  asked. 
Kettle  had  not  spent  twenty  years  at  army 
posts  without  finding  out  something. 

*'No,  indeed,"  answered  Sergeant  Gully, 
who  was  a  chum  of  Sergeant  Halligan,  ''not 
with  such  a  husky  feller  as  you.  I  can  thump 
and  pound  and  count  your  teeth. ' ' 

With  that  Gully  made  a  physical  examina- 
tion of  Kettle,  and  declared  that  no  surgeon 
who  ever  lived  would  turn  down  such  a  mag- 
nificent specimen  of  robust  manhood  as 
Kettle. 

All  this  was  very  disheartening  to  Kettle 
but  seemed  of  great  interest  to  Sergeant  Hal- 
ligan and  his  side  partner,  Sergeant  Gully, 
and  also  to  the  orderly,  who  grinned  sympa- 
thetically with  the  two  sergeants. 

*'I  say,"  said  Sergeant  Gully,  ''there's 
nothing  doing  here  this  morning  and  I'll  just 
leave  the  orderly  in  charge  and  step  in  with 
you  and  introduce  Private  Pickup  to  the  drill 
sergeant.  The  sergeant  is  a  honey,  but  the 
bees  don't  know  it." 

Then,  with  Sergeant  Halligan  on  one  side 
of  him  and  Sergeant  Gully  on  the  other. 
Kettle  started  across  the  plaza  in  the  clear 
morning  light  for  the  great  riding  hall.  By 
this  time  Kettle  was  thoroughly  alarmed. 

'  The  sight  of  the  class  in  riding,  smart  young 
privates,  marching  gaily  into  the  drill  hall, 

10  145 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

made  Kettle  feel  very  uneasy  about  the  riding. 

"How  'bout  the  milkman's  hoss?"  asked 
Kettle  anxiously. 

**The  milkman's  horse?  The  milkman's 
horse  I"  sniffed  Sergeant  Halligan,  "D'ye 
think  I'm  an  infernal  fool  to  put  such  a  propo- 
sition up  to  the  orficer  in  charge  of  mounts? 
He  'd  kick  me  full  of  holes  if  I  did. ' ' 

"But  I  say,"  replied  Kettle,  spurred  by 
fear,  "you  is  a  deceiver,  suh — a  deceiver,  and 
I'm  a'goin  to  tell  the  Kun'l  on  you  and  he'll 
do  for  you — that  he  will. ' ' 

" Look-a-here,  Solomon  Ezekiel  Pickup," 
shouted  Sergeant  Halligan  savagely,  "it's 
against  the  regulations  to  talk  to  your  supe- 
rior orficers  so  damned  impudent,  and  I'm 
a  going  to  prefer  charges  against  you,  and 
you  can  face  three  months  in  the  military 
prison  for  it.  And  I  'm  a-thinkin '  that  Briggs, 
the  drill  sergeant,  will  put  you  on  the  kick- 
ingest  horse  in  the  regimental  stables.  Ser- 
geant Gully  here  says  the  drill  sergeant  is  a 
honey,  but  he's  awful  mistaken.  I've  known 
Briggs  ever  since  we  was  rookies  together, 
and  he's  a  cruel  man,  and  has  caused  the 
death  of  several  rookies  by  his  murderin' 
ways." 

Just  then  the  three  came  face  to  face  with 
Sergeant  McGillicuddy.  In  those  days  Mc- 
Gillicuddy's  honest  face  was  gloomy  and  he 
had  not  much  spirit  for  Jokes,  but  he  laughed 

146 


SOME  LETTERS 

when  Sergeant  Halligan  explained  to  him 
that  Sergeant  Gully  had  enlisted  Kettle  and 
had  passed  him  both  mentally  and  physically, 
and  that  he  was  then  on  his  way  to  take  his 
first  lesson  in  riding. 

Sergeant  McGillicuddy  went  his  way,  laugh- 
ing, for  once  in  a  blue  moon,  and  Kettle, 
marching  between  the  two  sergeants,  felt  like 
a  prisoner  on  his  way  to  execution. 

Arrived  at  the  great  drill  hall,  now  dim 
and  silent  except  for  a  batch  of  recruits,  and 
Briggs,  the  drill  sergeant,  a  trooper  brought 
in  Corporal,  a  handsome  sorrel,  and  the  model 
of  a  trained  cavalry  charger.  The  trooper  at 
the  same  time  handed  the  Sergeant  a  long 
whip.  Corporal,  the  charger,  understood  as 
well  as  any  trooper  in  the  regiment  what  the 
crack  of  the  whip  meant,  from  walk,  trot,  to 
gallop.  As  Kettle  appeared,  almost  dragged 
in  by  the  two  sergeants,  a  grin  went  around 
among  the  young  recruits,  ruddy-skinned  and 
clear-eyed  youngsters,  well  set  up  and  worthy 
to  wear  the  uniform  of  their  country. 

A  whispered  conversation  followed  among 
the  three  sergeants  and  although  Kettle  was 
not  in  uniform  as  the  other  recruits  were,  Ser- 
geant Briggs,  for  a  reason  imparted  to  him 
by  Sergeant  Halligan,  called  out  to  Kettle: 

''Here,  Pickup,  you  get  up,  and  you  stay  up, 
and  if  you  don't  you'll  get  a  whack  up!" 

This  passed  for  a  witticism  to  the  recruits, 

147 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

who  made  it  a  point  to  laugh  at  all  the  drill 
sergeant's  jokes.  Kettle,  with  much  difficulty, 
managed  to  climb  on  Corporal's  back  and 
crouched  there  in  a  heap.  Corporal  turned 
his  mild  intelligent  eyes  toward  Sergeant 
Briggs,  as  much  as  to  say: 

"What  kind  of  a  fool  have  I  got  on  my  back 
now?" 

* '  Take  the  reins  and  let  her  go,  Gallagher  I ' ' 
said  the  sergeant  with  a  crack  of  his  whip. 

Corporal,  seeing  his  duty,  did  it.  He 
started  off  in  a  brisk  walk  around  the  tan- 
bark,  and  in  twenty  seconds  he  heard  another 
crack,  and  still  another,  which  sent  him  into 
a  hard  gallop.  As  the  horse  quickened  his 
pace,  Kettle  dropped  the  reins,  and  grasping 
Corporal  around  the  neck,  hung  on  desper- 
ately as  the  horse  sped  around  the  great 
ellipse.  At  a  word  from  Sergeant  Briggs, 
the  horse  stopped  and  walked  sedately  to 
the  middle  of  the  hall.  Kettle  slipped  off  and 
staggered  to  his  feet. 

"Good  Gord  A 'mighty,"  he  groaned,  to 
Sergeant  Briggs,  "I  k'yam'  ride  that  air 
boss,  Mr.  Briggs,  and  I  ain't  a  goin'  to, 
neither.  Miss  Betty,  she  tole  me  the  way 
to  surve  my  country  wuz  to  look  after  the 
baby  and  her,  so  I'm  jes'  goin*  to  resign  from 
the  army  and  go  home,  'cause  it's  scrub  day." 

"You  go  to  the  orficer  of  the  day,  and  re- 
port yourself  under  arrest, "  promptly  replied 

148 


KBTTLE  DROPPED  THE  REINS,  AND  GRASPING  CORPORAL  ABOtmD 
TBS  NECK  HUNQ  ON  DESPERATELY 


SOME  LETTERS 

Briggs.  ''His  office  is  in  the  headquarters 
building  and  he'll  straighten  you  out,  I'm 
thinkin'." 

Kettle  started  off  cheerfully  enough,  but 
instead  of  going  to  the  headquarters  building 
he  made  a  bee  line  for  the  C.  0.  's  house,  where 
he  at  once  took  off  his  coat  and  went  down 
on  his  knees  to  scrub  tlie  pantry.  Two  hours 
afterward,  when  the  drill  sergeant's  work  was 
done  in  the  riding  hall  and  he  discovered  that 
Kettle  had  not  reported  himself  to  the  officer 
of  the  day,  the  sergeant  walked  over  to  the 
C.  0.  's  house  and  sent  in  a  respectful  request 
to  see  the  commanding  officer. 

*'Come  in,  Sergeant,"  called  out  Colonel 
Fortescue,  sitting  at  his  desk. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  Sergeant, 
once  inside, ' '  but  I  have  come  to  you  privately, 
to  tell  you  about  your  man,  known  as  Kettle. 
He  came  into  the  riding  hall  this  morning, 
and  Sergeant  Gully  and  Sergeant  Halligan 
said  he  enlisted.  Of  course,  I  know,  sir,  they 
couldn't  enlist  him,  but  I'm  afraid  I  helped 
'em  on  with  the  joke.  Anyhow,  I  made  him 
get  on  a  horse,  and  it  would  have  broke  your 
heart,  sir,  to  see  such  riding!  Then  he  got 
sassy,  and  I  told  him,  just  to  get  rid  of  him, 
to  report  himself  under  arrest,  but  nobody 
hasn't  seen  him  since." 

At  that  moment,  the  new  recruit  was  seen 
passing  the  window,  and  wearing  blue  over- 

151 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

alls,  in  which  he  did  scrubbing.  The  Colonel 
tapped  on  the  window  and  Kettle  came  in  by 
the  office  entrance. 

''What's  this,  Solomon,  about  your  being 
saucy  to  Sergeant  Briggs?"  asked  Colonel 
Fortescue,  sternly. 

**Well,  suh,  I  enlisted,"  answered  Kettle, 
promptly,  ''an'  I  done  resigned.  I  tole  that 
there  Briggs  man  so,  and  lef  the  drill  hall 
and  come  home,  'cause  it  was  scrub  day." 

"Three  days  in  the  guardhouse,"  thun- 
dered the  Colonel,  in  a.  voice  terrible  to  Kettle. 

Sergeant  Briggs,  touching  his  cap,  walked 
out.  Kettle  following  him.  At  the  door  stood 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  holding  in  her  arms  the 
After-Clap,  in  all  his  morning  freshness,  his 
little  white  fur  cap  and  coat  showing  off  his 
eyes  and  hair,  so  dark,  like  his  mother 's.  The 
After-Clap  gave  a  spring  which  he  meant  to 
land  him  in  Kettle's  arms,  but  Kettle,  bursting 
into  tears,  would  not  take  him. 

"I  k'yarn'  take  you  now,  honey,"  cried 
Kettle,  wiping  his  eyes,  "I'm  a  goin'  to  the 
guardhouse,  my  lamb,  for  three  days  and 
maybe  I  never  see  you  no  mo '. ' ' 

The  baby  seemed  to  think  this  might  be 
true,  and  set  up  a  series  of  loud  shrieks. 

' '  Do  you  mean  to  say  as  you  've  tried  to  en- 
list? "  cried  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  struggling 
with  the  baby  and  her  astonishment  and 
indignation  all  at  once.    "The  idea  of  you 

1S2 


SOME  LETTERS 

being  a  soldier !    It  beats  the  band,  it  does ! ' ' 

Sergeant  Briggs,  without  giving  Kettle 
time  to  explain  further,  marched  him  off,  and 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  went  to  report  to  Mrs.  For- 
tescue,  while  Sergeant  McGillicuddy  appeared 
to  report  to  Colonel  Fortescue. 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  the  Sergeant  confi- 
dentially, *'as  it's  a  crooked  business  about 
the  naygur's  wantin'  to  enlist.  Gully  and 
Sergeant  Halligan  was  jokin',  but  it's  mighty 
risky  jokin'  with  the  regulations." 

So  thought  Sergeant  Halligan  and  Sergeant 
Gully,  when  confronted  with  the  Colonel.  As 
they  were  two  of  the  best  sergeants  in  the 
regiment,  the  Colonel  satisfied  himself  with  a 
stern  reprimand,  which  was  not  entered 
against  them.  But  having  sentenced  Kettle 
to  three  days  in  the  guardhouse  for  insolence 
to  Sergeant  Briggs,  Colonel  Fortescue 
thought  it  well  to   let  the  sentence   stand. 

Colonel  Fortescue,  in  spite  of  being  the 
commanding  officer  at  one  of  the  finest 
cavalry  posts  in  the  world,  and  whose  word 
was  law,  could  yet  be  made  to  feel  domestic 
displeasure.  The  family  at  once  divided 
itself  into  two  camps,  one  on  the  Colonel's 
side  and  one  on  Kettle's.  Anita,  of  course, 
sided  with  her  father,  and  declared  he  Had 
done  perfectly  right  about  Kettle,  as 
he  did  about  everything.  Sergeant  McGilli- 
cuddy was  also  a  faithful  adherent  of  the 

153 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Colonel's  in  the  wordless  warfare  that  pre- 
vailed in  the  commanding  officer's  house  for 
the  three  days  in  which  Kettle  enjoyed  the 
hospitality  of  the  guardhouse. 

''Served  the  naygur  right  for  sassing  a 
sergeant/'  was  Sergeant  McGillicuddy's 
view.  On  the  other  side  was  arrayed,  of 
course,  Mrs.  Fortescue,  who  outwardly  ob- 
served an  armed  neutrality,  but  who  called 
the  Colonel  **John"  during  the  entire  three 
days  of  Kettle's  imprisonment.  Colonel 
Fortescue  retaliated  by  calling  Mrs.  Fortescue 
''Elizabeth." 

There  were  frequent  references,  in  the 
Colonel's  hearing,  to  "Poor  Kettle,"  and  the 
After-Clap  was  not  rebuked  in  his  insistent 
demand  for  "my  Kettle,  I  want  my  Kettle! 
Where  is  my  Kettle?" 

At  intervals,  from  the  time  he  waked  in  the 
morning  until  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  put  him  in 
his  crib  at  night,  the  After-Clap  was  scream- 
ing for  Kettle,  and  as  the  baby  was  extremely 
robust,  his  shrieks  and  wails  for  Kettle  were 
clearly  audible  to  the  Colonel,  sitting  grimly 
in  his  private  office,  or  at  luncheon,  or  having 
his  tea  in  the  drawing-room.  Colonel  Fortes- 
cue, however,  spent  most  of  his  time  during 
those  three  days  at  the  headquarters  building 
or  the  officers'  club.  As  for  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy, she  was  openly  on  the  side  of  Kettle 
and  against  the  Colonel,  and  shrewdly  sur- 

154 


SOME  LETTERS 

mised  exactly  what  had  happened  about  the 
enlistment,  and  also  that  Sergeant  McGilli- 
cuddy  was  implicated  with  the  other  two 
sergeants  in  the  outrage.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy 
boldly  propounded  this  theory  to  Mrs. 
Fortescue  while  the  latter  was  dressing  for 
dinner  on  the  first  evening  of  Kettle 's  incar- 
ceration. The  Colonel,  in  the  next  room,  going 
through  the  same  process  of  dressing,  could 
hear  every  word  through  the  open  door. 

**It^s  Patrick  McGillicuddy  that  had  a  hand 
in  it,  mum,"  said  Mrs.  McGrillicuddy  wrath- 
fuUy.  ''He's  been  takin'  rises  out  of  the 
naygur,  as  he  calls  Kettle,  for  twenty  years, 
and  he  seen  Sergeant  Gully  and  Sergeant 
Halligan  draggin'  poor  Kettle  along  to  the 
riding  hall.  I  seen  Kettle  when  he  run  out, 
and  McGillicuddy  was  a  standin'  off,  a-laffin' 
fit  to  kill  himself,  and  I  know  that  Gully  and 
Halligan  has  been  jokin'  Kettle  and  makin' 
him  believe  he  has  enlisted  in  the  aviation 
corps  and  will  have  to  go  fljan',  and  Kettle's 
scared  stiff." 

**Poor  Kettle,"  said  Mrs.  Fortescue  softly, 
clasping  her  pearls  about  her  white  throat. 
''It's  been  a  sad  day  to  all  of  us,  except  the 
Colonel.  Of  course,  I  never  attempt  to  criti- 
cise Colonel  Fortescue 's  professional  conduct, 
but  I  do  feel  lost  without  Kettle. ' ' 

"Well,  mum,"  replied  Mrs.  McGillicuddy, 
*'I  haven't  been  a  sergeant's  wife  for  twenty 

155 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

years  without  findin'  out  that  nobody  can't 
say  a  word  about  the  orficers,  but  I  do  think, 
mum,  as  three  days  in  the  guardhouse  for 
poor  Kettle,  who  was  bamboozled  by  Tim 


Gully  and  Mike  Halligan,  is  one  of  the  cruel- 
est  things  a  commandin'  orficer  ever  done. 
Not  that  I'm  a-criticisin'  the  Colonel,  mum — 
I  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing  for  the  world." 

"Nor  would  I,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue 
meekly,  and  fully  conscious  of  the  Colonel's 
presence  in  the  next  room,  shaving  himself 

156 


SOME  LETTERS 

savagely,  ''but  three  days  for  such  a  little 
thing  does  seem  hard." 

Colonel  Fortescue  ground  his  teeth  and 
gave  himself  such  a  jab  with  his  razor  that 
the  blood  came. 

This  subtle  persecution  of  the  Colonel  went 
on,  with  variations,  for  three  whole  days. 

On  the  Friday  when  Kettle's  time  was  up 
he  was  released  and  his  return  was  hailed 
with  open  delight  by  his  partisans,  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  and  the  After- 
Clap,  and  with  secret  relief  by  the  Colonel, 
Anita  and  Sergeant  McGillicuddy. 

Kettle,  on  reporting  to  the  Colonel,  said 
solemnly,  "Kun'l,  I  ain't  never  goin'  ter  try 
an'  enlist  no  mo',  so  help  me  Gord  A 'mighty. 
An'  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  pay  no  more  'tention 
to  the  chaplain's  sermons,  'cause  'twuz  that 
there  chaplain  as  fust  got  me  in  this  here 
mess,  cuss  him!  " 

This  last  was  under  Kettle's  breath,  and 
the  Colonel  pretended  not  to  hear. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

It  was  May  before  the  winter  loosened  its 
grasp  on  Fort  Blizzard.  Once  more,  the  fort 
was  in  touch  with  the  outside  world  for  a 
few  months.  The  mails  came  regularly  and 
there  were  two  trains  a  day  at  the  station, 
ten  miles  away.  In  May  Anita  had  a  birth- 
day— her  eighteenth. 

"You  can't  call  me  a  child  any  longer, 
daddy,"  she  said  to  Colonel  Fortescue,  on  the 
May  morning  when  she  was  showered  with 
birthday  gifts.  Nevertheless,  Colonel  Fortes- 
cue  continued  to  call  her  a  child,  but  a  glance 
at  her  reading  showed  that  Anita  was  very 
much  grown  up.  She  still  read  piles  of  books 
and  pamphlets  concerning  the  Philippines  and 
knew  all  about  the  stinging  and  creeping  and 
crawling  things  that  made  life  hideous  in  the 
jungles,  the  horrors  of  fever,  the  merciless 
heat,  and  the  treacherous  Moros  who  stabbed 
the  sleeping  soldiers  by  night.  No  word  had 
come  from  Broussard  across  the  still  and  slug- 
gish Pacific. 

The  chaplain  did  not  fail  to  remind  Anita 
that  it  was  a  Christian  act  to  continue  her 
visits  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  who  still  remained 
weak  and  neiTeless  and  ill,  and  Anita  was 

158 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

ready  enough  to  do  so.  Mrs.  Lawrence  never 
mentioned  Broussard's  name  and,  in  fact, 
spoke  little  at  any  time.  A  mental  and  bodily 
torpor  seemed  to  possess  her,  and  she  was 
never  able  to  do  more  than  walk  feebly,  sup- 
ported by  Mrs.  McGillicuddy 's  strong  arm,  to 
a  bench,  sit  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  and 
return  to  her  own  two  rooms.  Occasionally 
she  asked  if  she  should  give  up  her  quarters, 
but  as  the  surgeon  and  the  chaplain  and  Mrs. 
McGillicuddy  all  united  in  telling  Colonel 
Fortescue  that  Mrs.  Lawrence  was  really  un- 
able to  move,  the  Colonel  silently  acquiesced 
in  her  occupation  of  the  quarters,  which  were 
not  needed  for  any  one  else. 

Once  or  twice  a  week,  Anita  would  go  to  see 
her,  and  read  to  her,  and  take  the  sewing  or 
knitting  out  of  her  languid  hand  and  do  it  for 
her.  Mrs.  Lawrence,  who  appeared  to  notice 
little  that  went  on  around  her,  observed  that 
Anita's  eyes  always  sought  the  photograph 
of  Broussard  on  the  mantel,  but  his  name  was 
never  uttered  between  them,  nor  did  Mrs. 
Lawrence  ever  ask  Anita  to  write  another 
letter. 

On  Anita's  birthday,  in  the  afternoon,  she 
went  to  see  Mrs.  Lawrence,  ostensibly  to  carry 
her  some  of  the  fruit  and  flowers  that  were  so 
abundant  at  the  Commanding  Ofl&cer's  house, 
where  the  great  garden  was  blooming  beauti- 
fully.   Mrs.  Lawrence  accepted  Anita's  gifts 

159 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

with  more  animation  than  usual,  and  buried 
her  face  in  the  lilac  blossoms.  From  her  lap  a 
letter  dropped  and  Anita  picked  it  up ;  it  was 
in  Broussard's  handwriting,  which  Anita 
knew.  A  vivid  blush  came  into  Anita's  face; 
however  silent  she  might  be  about  Broussard, 
her  eyes  and  lips  were  always  eloquent  when 
anything  suggested  him.  Mrs.  Lawrence 
made  no  comment  on  the  letter  and  pres- 
ently Anita  went  away.  The  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  sitting  in  the  drawing-room 
at  tea,  saw  her  pass  the  wide  window  and  go 
into  the  beautiful  walled  garden,  which  was, 
next  her  violin,  Anita's  chief  delight.  It  was 
a  wonderful  garden  for  a  couple  of  years  of 
growth  and  it  had  developed  amazingly  under 
Anita's  hand. 

Sergeant  McGillicuddy  was  a  good  amateur 
gardener,  and  at  that  very  moment,  wearing 
a  suit  of  blue  overalls,  was  digging  away  in- 
dustriously. The  Sergeant  had  lost  a  good 
deal  of  his  cheerfulness  in  those  later  days  of 
winter,  but  tlie  garden  seemed  to  inspire  him, 
as  it  did  Anita.  The  girl  went  up  to  him  and 
the  two  were  in  close  conference  concerning 
a  bed  of  cowslips  the  "sergeant  was  making. 
Through  the  open  window  the  sunny  air 
floated,  drenched  Vith  perfume.  Anita  was 
laughing  at  something  the  Sergeant  said; — 
they  had  usually  been  serious  enough  while 
working  together  in  the  garden. 

160 


THIS   WAS  ENCLOSED   IN   A    LETTER   TO   ME   FROM    MR.    BROUSSARO, 
SAID   THE   COLONEL 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

Presently  Anita  came  into  the  drawing- 
room,  carrying  in  her  thin,  white  skirt,  as  if  it 
were  an  apron,  a  great  mass  of  blossoms. 
Colonel  Fortescue  held  out  a  letter  to  her. 

*'This  was  enclosed  in  a  letter  to  me  from 
Mr.  Broussard, ' '  said  the  Colonel. 

Anita,  although  eighteen  years  old  that  day, 
acted  like  a  child.  She  dropped  the  comers 
of  her  skirt  and  the  flowers  fell  to  the  floor. 
One  moment  she  stood  like  a  bird  poised  for 
flight,  and  then  taking  the  letter,  tripped  out 
of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs. 

Both  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  in  the  still 
May  afternoon  heard  her  turn  the  key  in  the 
lock  of  her  little  rose-colored  room. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  gathered  up  the  blossoms, 
the  Colonel  with  moody  eyes  looking  down. 

**0h,  the  jealousy  of  fathers,"  said  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  after  a  minute.  "You  think  we 
mothers  are  jealous,  but  it  is  nothing  com- 
pared with  the  jealousy  of  fatherhood.  I  have 
already  made  up  my  mind  to  be  all  gracious- 
ness  and  kindness  to  Beverley's  future  wife, 
but  you  have  already  made  up  your  mind 
to  hate  your  future  -son-in-law,  whoever  he 
may  be. ' ' 

**How  can  a  man  love  the  man  who  robs 
him  of  his  child?  That's  what  actually  hap- 
pens," replied  Colonel  Fortescue. 

* '  Then  the  only  thing  you  can  do, ' '  replied 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  **is  to  concentrate  all  of  your 

11  161 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

lov^  upon  your  wife,  for  then  you  have  no 
other  man  for  a  rival. ' ' 

Colonel  Fortescue  agreed  to  this  proposi- 
tion, and  also  that  his  objections  to  Brous- 
sard  were  purely  fanciful  and  that  he  would 
contrive  to  pick  flaws  in  any  man  to  whom 
Anita  was  inclined. 

"But  she  thinks  and  dreams  too  much  about 
Broussard, '  *  said  the  Colonel.  ' '  Probably  he 
looks  upon  her  as  a  pretty  child,  just  as  Con- 
way does." 

' '  One  can't  control  the  thoughts  and  dreams 
of  youth,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue,  "Anita 
must  study  the  lesson-book  of  life  and  love 
like  other  women. ' ' 

"Did  you  see  her  face  when  I  gave  her  the 
note?"  asked  Colonel  Fortescue. 

"You  are  an  old  goose,"  was  all  the  reply 
Mrs.  Fortescue  would  make  to  this  question. 

Locked  in  her  own  room,  Anita  read  her 
precious  note.  It  was  very  short  and  per- 
fectly conventional,  thanking  her  for  writing 
to  him  for  Mrs.  Lawrence.  Broussard  knew 
of  Lawrence  being  among  the  missing  men. 

"Lawrence,  as  you  may  have  heard,"  said 
the  letter,  "was  a  playmate  of  mine  in  my 
boyhood  and,  although  he  has  had  hard  luck, 
I  have  a  deep  interest  in  him  and  his  wife 
and  child." 

Then  came  a  sentence  that,  to  Anita,  con- 
tained a  sweet  and  hidden  meaning:  "Al- 

162 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

though  Gamechick  is  no  longer  mine,  I  shall 
always  love  the  horse  because  of  something 
that  happened  last  Christmas  at  the  music 
ride. ' ' 

Anita  was  late  for  dinner  that  evening,  and 
at  the  table,  as  she  took  her  lace  handkerchief 
from  the  bosom  of  her  little  blue  evening 
gown,  Broussard's  note  came  out  with  the 
handkerchief,  and  fell  upon  the  floor.  Her 
father  and  mother  in  kindness  looked  away, 
but  Kettle,  with  well-meant  but  indiscreet 
good  will,  picked  the  letter  up,  saying : 

*'Hi!  Miss  'Nita,  here's  your  letter  you 
carry  in  your  bosom." 

Colonel  Fortescue  suddenly  grew  cross; 
this  thing  of  having  a  man's  daughter  carry- 
ing around  next  her  heart  a  letter  from  an- 
other man  is  very  annoying  to  a  father  of 
Colonel  Fortescue 's  type.  And  Anita  was 
more  tender  and  devoted  than  ever,  keeping 
up  a  brave  show  of  loyalty,  although  she  had 
already  surrendered  the  citadel. 

As  the  winter  at  Fort  Blizzard  was  like  the 
frozen  regions  which  the  old  Goths  believed 
to  be  the  Inferno,  so  the  summer  was  like  a 
blast  from  the  eternal  furnace.  The  hot  winds 
swept  over  the  arid  plains  and  the  sun  was 
more  vengeful  than  the  biting  cold.  The  en- 
ergies of  many  drooped,  and  the  sergeants 
grew  short  with  the  men.  But  cheerfulness 
prevailed  at  the  Commandant's  house.    In 

163 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

July  Beverley  Fortescue,  named  for  the  fine 
old  Virginia  Colonel,  Mrs.  Fortescue's  grand- 
father, was  to  come  home,  in  all  the  glory  of 
his  twenty-one  years,  wearing  for  the  first 
time  the  splendid  cavalry  uniform  instead 
of  the  grey  and  gold  and  black  of  a  military 
cadet.  More  than  that,  he  was  to  be  assigned 
to  duty  at  Fort  Blizzard.  When  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue  heard  this,  she  trembled  a  little;  it 
was  almost  too  much  of  joy;  this  last  crown- 
ing gift  of  fate  made  her  almost  afraid.  And 
Beverley  was  to  see,  for  the  first  time,  the 
After-Clap,  who  was  so  much  like  Beverley 
that  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  could 
hardly  persuade  themselves  he  was  their  last 
bom,  and  not  their  first  bom. 

On  the  great  day,  Beverley  came.  In  the 
soft  July  evening,  at  the  threshold,  stood  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  holding  by  the  hand  the  After- 
Clap,  a  sturdy  little  chap  for  his  two-and-a- 
half  years.  The  mother  was  smiling  and 
blushing  like  a  girl.  Behind  her  stood  Kettle, 
his  face  shining  as  if  it  had  been  varnished, 
and  next  him  was  Sergeant  McGillicuddy,  who 
had  taught  Beverley  to  ride  and  to  shoot  and 
to  skate  and  to  box,  and  all  the  manly  sports 
of  boyhood.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy,  ruddy  and 
beaming,  towered  over  the  little  Sergeant. 

Colonel  Fortescue  and  Anita  stood  on  the 
lowest  of  the  stone  steps.  Presently,  a  motor 
whirled  up  and  Beverley  stepped  out,  looking 

164 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

so  handsome  in  his  well-fitting  civilian  clothes, 
with  his  new  straw  hat,  in  which  he  felt 
slightly  queer.  The  Colonel  wrung  his  hand 
saying: 

''Boy!  Boy!  How  glad  we  are  to  have 
you  once  more!" 

Anita  covered  Beverley's  face  with  kisses, 
but  Mrs.  Fortescue  stood  like  a  queen,  smil- 
ing and  gracious,  to  receive  her  boy's  rever- 
ence. Beverley  caught  her  in  his  strong 
young  grasp ;  she  looked  so  young,  so  lovely, 
so  full  of  radiant  life,  that  she  seemed  like 
an  older  Anita.  Then  Mrs.  Fortescue  raised 
the  After-Clap  and  put  him  in  Beverley's 
arms.  Accustomed  to  much  adulation,  the 
After-Clap  was,  in  general,  coolly  super- 
cilious to  strangers,  but  he  seemed  much 
pleased  with  Beverley's  appearance,  and 
called  him  "Bruwer,"  as  he  had  called 
Broussard,  who  had  been  long  since  forgotten 
by  the  After-Clap. 

"What  a  jolly  little  rascal!"  cried  Bev- 
erley, whose  experience  with  small  children 
was  nil. 

The  After-Clap  returned  the  compliment, 
by  rapturously  hugging  Beverley.  In  fact, 
they  became  such  chums  on  the  spot  that  much 
difficulty  was  experienced  in  persuading  the 
After-Clap  to  go  to  bed  when  Mrs.  McGilli- 
cuddy  was  ready  for  him. 

There  was  a  joyous  dinner.    Beverley,  like 

165 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Colonel  Fortescue,  was  surprised  to  find  that 
Anita  was  grown  up,  like  other  girls  of 
eighteen.  Also,  that  his  father  was  almost  as 
young  and  handsome  as  his  mother. 

*'I  say.  Colonel,"  said  Beverley,  "you're 
the  handsomest  Colonel  in  the  army." 

The  Colonel  smiled. 

''For  your  age,  that  is." 

The  Colonel  scowled. 

' '  Your  father 's  touchy  about  his  age, ' '  Mrs. 
Fortescue  explained,  ''and  so  am  I,  so  please, 
Beverley,  keep  away  from  the  unpleasant 
subject." 

Beverley  Fortescue  had  three  months* 
leave  before  taking  up  his  duties  as  an  officer 
at  the  post  and  it  was  a  halcyon  time  at  the 
Commandant's  house.  In  spite  of  the  torrid 
heat,  there  were  parties  of  pleasure  and  little 
dances,  and  all  the  round  of  gaieties  that  pre- 
vail at  army  posts.  The  Colonel  was  proud 
of  his  well-set-up  stripling,  although,  of 
course,  a  boy  could  never  be  of  so  much  value 
in  a  family  as  a  girl,  according  to  Colonel 
Fortescue 's  philosophy.  With  Mrs.  Fortescue 
it  was  the  other  way.  Dear  as  was  Anita  to 
her,  the  mother's  heart  was  triumphant  over 
her  soldier  son.  As  for  the  After-Clap,  he 
frankly  repudiated  his  whole  domestic  circle, 
except  Kettle,  for  Beverley,  who  was  as  tall 
and  strong  as  his  father  and  could  do  many 
more  things  amusing  to  a  two-and-a-half -year- 

166 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

old  tlian  a  stern  and  dignified  Colonel.  Anita 
and  Beverley  were  as  intimate  and  passion- 
ately fond  of  each  other  as  when  they  were 
little  playmates.  Beverley  asked  some  ques- 
tions of  his  mother  concerning  Anita. 

^' All  the  fellows  like  to  dance  with  her  and 
ride  with  her,  but  she  treats  them  all  as  she 
does  old  Conway." 

''Old  Conway,"  Colonel  Fortescue's  aide, 
was  barely  turned  thirty;  but  to  the  twenty- 
one-year-old  Beverley,  Conway  seemed  an 
aged  veteran. 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  plaintively  re- 
sponded Mrs.  Fortescue.  ' '  Sometimes  I  think 
Anita  has  no  coquetry  in  her.  Again  I  think 
she  is  the  worst  type  of  coquette — she  treats 
all  men  alike.  You  remember  my  writing 
you  about  Anita  being  thrown  at  the  music 
ride  last  Christmas  Eve,  and  Broussard  jump- 
ing his  horse  over  her?" 

"I  should  think  so,"  answered  Beverley. 
''I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  letter  the 
Colonel  wrote  me  about  it.  I  felt  more  sorry 
for  what  the  poor  old  chap  must  have  suffered 
than  for  you,  mother. ' ' 

"Don't  call  your  father  Hhe  poor  old 
chap,'  "  said  Mrs.  Fortescue  positively. 
"And  don't  make  jokes  about  the  After-Clap 
being  the  child  of  his  old  age.  Your  father 
doesn't  like  it.  It's  perfectly  disgusting  the 
way  young  people  now  speak  of  their  elders, 

167 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

who  are  barely  middle-aged,  as  if  they  were 
centenarians.  Well,  I  think,  and  your  father 
thinks,  that  Anita  had  a  fancy  for  Broussard. 
He  was  a  very  attractive  man.  Yonr  father 
thought  him  a  prodigal  with  his  money,  but, 
of  course,  some  fault  must  be  found  with 
every  man  who  looks  at  Anita.'* 

**But  Anita  is  so  young — a  chit,  a  child." 

* '  She  is  not  quite  three  years  younger  than 
you,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue.  "This  notion 
that  Anita  is  a  child  and  must  be  treated  as 
such  is  ridiculous.  Why,  when  I  was  Anita's 
age,  I  had  had  a  dozen  love  affairs." 

"Did  no  one  ever  tell  you,  mother,  that  you 
are  a  bom  coquette,  and  you  will  be  coquettish 
at  ninety,  if  you  live  to  bless  us  so  long?" 

Mrs.  Fortescue  laughed  the  soft,  musical 
laugh  that  was  a  part  of  her  armory,  of 
charms,  and  made  no  reply. 

At  dinner  that  night  Beverley  suddenly  be- 
gan to  ask  questions  about  Broussard,  prais- 
ing his  horsemanship,  but  wanting  to  know 
what  kind  of  a  fellow  he  was.  The  Colonel 
spoke  guardedly  and  damned  Broussard  with 
faint  praise,  as  he  would  any  man  whom  he 
thought  likely  to  rob  him  of  his  one  ewe  lamb ; 
yet  the  Colonel  thought  himself  a  just  man. 

The  eloquent  blood  leaped  into  Anita's 
cheeks,  and  there  was  something  like  resent- 
ment in  her  eyes  at  the  Colonel's  cool  commen- 
dation. After  dinner  she  took  Beverley  into  the 

168 


"don't  call  tottb  father  'the  pook  old  chap,"'  said 
mbs.  f0rte8cue  positively 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

garden,  and  the  brother  and  sister  walked  up 
and  down  in  the  moonlight,  and  Anita,  think- 
ing she  was  keeping  her  secret,  revealed  every- 
thing to  Beverley.  Broussard  was  the  finest 
young  officer,  the  most  beautiful  horseman,  he 
could  sing  Komer's  Battle  HjTun  as  no  one 
else  could,  and  when  she  played  a  violin 
obligato  to  his  songs  of  love 

Anita  stopped  short,  and  turned  her  long- 
lashed  eyes  full  on  Beverley. 

''Daddy  doesn't  do  justice  to  Mr.  Brous- 
sard," she  said,  ''but  you  ought  to  have  seen 
the  way  he  grasped  Mr.  Broussard 's  hands 
after  the  music  ride. ' ' 

Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fortescue,  sitting  in  the 
cool,  dim  drawing-room,  heard  Beverley's 
laughter  floating  in  from  the  garden.  Bever- 
ley saw  the  case  at  a  glance. 

The  torrid  summer  slipped  by,  and  in 
November  it  was  winter  again,  and  the  earth 
was  snowbound  once  more.  In  all  those 
months  Mrs.  Lawrence  remained,  feeble  and 
nerveless,  in  the  two  little  rooms  she  was  still 
permitted  to  occupy.  By  that  time  she  was  a 
shadow.  Mrs.  McGillicuddy  was  more  kind 
than  ever  to  her,  and  Sergeant  McGillicuddy 
grew  more  sombre  every  day,  thinking  that 
his  words  had  brought  Lawrence  to  ruin  and 
his  unfortunate  wife  close  to  the  boundaries 
of  the  far  country.  The  chaplain  took  the 
Sergeant  in  hand,  and  so  did  the  Colonel,  but 
171 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

the  Sergeant,  who  had  a  tender  heart  under 
his  well-fitting  uniform,  was  not  a  happy  man. 
Anita  went  regularly  to  see  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
and  as  the  young  are  appalled  at  the  thought 
of  life  going  out,  she  watched  with  palpitating 
fear  what  seemed  a  steady  journey  toward  the 
land  where  spirits  dw^ell.  But  always  on  those 
visits  to  the  woman  who  seemed  slipping  from 
life  into  the  great  ocean  of  f orgetfulness,  there 
was  a  thrill  of  joy  for  Anita;  she  could  see 
Broussard's  picture.  Young  and  imaginative 
souls  live  and  thrive  on  very  little. 

The  introspective  life  that  Anita  led  was 
strongly  expressed  in  her  music.  Never  had 
Neroda  a  pupil  who  was  willing  to  work  so 
hard  as  Anita,  and  the  result  charmed  him. 
On  this  afternoon  Anita  was  at  her  lesson 
in  the  great  drawing-room.,  the  red  sunset 
pouring  in  through  the  long  windows  and 
flooding  the  room  with  crimson  lights  and 
purple  shadows.  Anita,  wearing  a  little,  nun- 
like black  gown  that  outlined  her  slim  figure, 
played,  with  wonderful  fire  and  finish,  a  wild 
and  gorgeous  Hungarian  dance  by  Brahms. 
There  was  a  delicate  melody  winding  through 
all  of  the  rich  harmonies,  as  it  ran  up  the 
scale,  like  a  bird  soaring  into  the  blue  sky, 
and  then  descended  with  splendid  double 
notes,  into  the  sombre  and  passionate  G 
string,  the  string  that  touches  the  soul.  It 
grew  more  of  a  miracle  to  Neroda  than  ever 

172 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

to  watch  Anita's  slender  bow-arm  flashing 
back  and  forth,  drawing  out,  with  amazing 
force,  the  soul  of  the  violin,  her  slender  figure 
erect  and  poised  high,  vibrating  with  the 
strings,  and  her  eyes  darkening  and  lighten- 
ing as  the  music  grew  deeply  passionate  or 
brilliantly  gay.  When  she  finished,  and  stood, 
smiling  and  triumphant,  still  holding  the 
violin  and  bow,  Neroda  said  to  her: 
**  Are  you  not  tired,  Signorina?" 
''Not  a  bit,"  cried  Anita.  "I  feel  that  T 
could  play  as  long  as  you  did,  in  the  days  of 
which  you  told  me  when  you  first  came  to 
America  and  would  play  the  violin  all  night 
long  for  dancers  on  the  East  Side  in  New 
York." 

**I  believe  you  could,  almost,"  replied 
Neroda,  smiling.  ''I,  who  had  been  a  concert 
master  in  Italy,  was  only  too  glad  to  get  three 
dollars  for  fiddling  from  eight  in  the  evening 
until  three  in  the  morning;  but  they  were 
happy  nights,  because  I  was  young  and  strong 
and  full  of  hope  and  loved  my  fiddle.  Some- 
times, when  I  am  leading  the  band  in  my  fine 
uniform,  I  long  to  take  the  instrument  away 
from  one  of  the  bandsmen  and  play  it  as  I 
did  in  those  days,  without  any  baton  to  hold 
me  back;  but  the  violin  is  a  man's  instrument 
and  requires  much  stren.gth.  Now,  where, 
Signorina,  in  your  girlish  arms  and  little 
hands,  did  you  get  such  strength?" 

173 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

*'It  is  here,"  said  Anita,  smiling  and  tap- 
ping her  breast.  ''I  have  a  strong  heart,  my 
blood  circulates  well,  and  I  am  not  afraid  of 
the  violin,  like  most  girls.  I  am  its  master, 
and  it  shall  do  my  will. ' ' 

At  that  she  tapped  her  violin  sharply  with 
the  bow,  saying  to  it : 

* '  Do  you  hear  me  1  You  are  my  slave,  and 
I  shall  make  you  do  what  I  wish  you  to  do. 
If  I  wish  you  to  talk  Brahms,  you  shall  talk 
Brajims ;  if  I  wish  you  to  be  sad,  I  will  make 
you  sad  with  funeral  marches.  You  shall 
speak  Italian,  German,  French  or  English,  as 
I  tell  you." 

Neroda  laughed  with  delight.  He  loved  the 
imaginative  nature  of  the  girl,  who  treated  her 
violin  as  if  it  were  a  living  thing,  and  whis- 
pered her  secrets  into  the  ear  of  her  riding 
horse,  and  told  love  stories  to  her  birds. 

'*In  Italy,"  said  Neroda,  "a  fiddler,  if  he 
really  knows  how  to  play  dance  music,  can 
dance  as  well  as  play.  In  those  nights  on  the 
East  Side,  in  New  York,  when  I  played  for 
the  workmen  and  working  girls  in  their  cheap 
finery,  I  went  among  the  dancers  myself  while 
I  played,  and  they  always  gave  me  a  round  of 
applause  and  danced  harder  themselves." 

Anita  suddenly  swept  the  strings  with  her 
bow  and  dashed  into  another  Hungarian 
dance  of  Brahms,  herself  taking  pretty  danc- 
ing steps  and  pirouetting  as  she  played,  sink- 

174 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

ing  upon  one  knee  and  then  rising,  the  toe  of 
her  little  slipper  pointing  skyward.  She  felt  an 
unaccountable  gaiety  of  heart  that  day.  Why, 
she  knew  not,  only  that  some  strong  current 
of  emotion  inspired  her  arms,  her  hands,  her 
little,  twinkling  feet,  as  she  danced  the  length 
of  the  drawing-room  and  back  again.  Suddenly 
the  music  stopped  with  a  crash.  She  looked 
up  and  saw  Broussard  standing  in  the  door. 

' '  Thank  you,  thank  you ! ' '  said  Broussard, 
advancing  and  bowing  and  smiling,  '  *  I  have 
seen  it  all.  When  you  dance  and  play  at  the 
same  time,  you  can  master  the  heart  of  a  man, 
as  well  as  that  of  a  violin." 

Anita  stood  still  for  a  moment,  thrilled  with 
the  shock  of  joy  at  seeing  Broussard.  She 
laid  her  violin  and  bow  down  on  the  piano, 
and  gave  him  her  hand,  which  trembled  in  his. 
Broussard 's  first  thought  was  that  Anita  was 
grown  into  a  woman.  Anita's  first  glance  at 
Broussard  showed  her  that  he  was  thin  and 
sallow,  and  that  his  clothes  hung  loosely  upon 
him,  and  that,  in  spite  of  his  smile  and  playful 
words,  his  mind  was  not  at  ease. 

Neroda,  standing  near,  saw  the  glow  in  the 
eyes  of  Anita  and  Broussard,  and  as  they  had 
evidently  forgotten  his  existence,  he  slipped, 
without  a  word,  out  of  the  room.  The  next 
moment  Colonel  Fortescue  walked  in. 

All  at  once,  Anita  and  Broussard  assumed 
strictly  conventional  attitudes ;  poetry  became 

175 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

prose,  music  became  silence.  Broussard 
hastened  to  explain  his  presence,  after  ex- 
changing greetings  with  Colonel  Fortescue. 

*'I  came  on  private  business,  sir,"  he  said, 
* '  very  important.  Not  finding  you  at  the  head- 
quarters building,  I  ventured  to  come  to  your 
house,  as  I  wished  to  see  you  immediately." 

"Will  you  come  into  my  office?"  said  the 
Colonel,  in  a  business-like  voice,  which  seemed 
to  reduce  Anita  to  the  age  of  the  After-Clap, 
and  classify  Broussard  with  the  poker  that 
stood  by  the  fireplace. 

The  two  men  crossed  the  hall  and  entered 
the  private  office  and  sat  down.  Then  Colonel 
Fortescue  noticed  that  Broussard  looked  hag- 
gard and  worn,  and  his  dark  skin  had  turned 
darker.  His  face  and  manner  assumed  a 
gravity  which  made  Colonel  Fortescue  feel 
that  Broussard 's  errand  was  not  one  of 
pleasure. 

*  *  I  am  on  sick  leave, ' '  said  Broussard.  '  *  We 
were  in  the  jungles  eight  months  and  every 
one  of  us  had  fever.  I  was  the  last  to  come 
down,  and  I  had  a  bad  case.  The  doctors  sent 
me  home  for  three  months,  and  when  I  go 
back — for  I  didn't  mean  to  let  the  infernal 
climate  out  there  get  the  better  of  me — I  shall 
be  in  Guam.  That's  paradise  compared  with 
the  interior." 

"So  I  know,"  answered  the  Colonel,  re- 
membering the  snakes  and  mosquitoes  and  the 

176 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

flies  and  the  beetles  and  the  hideous  swamps 
and  sickening  forests,  the  slime,  the  mud,  the 
marshes  and  all  the  horrors  of  the  tropics. 

''I  should  like  to  spend  my  leave  at  Fort 
Blizzard,"  Broussard  continued,  **I  thought 
the  climate  here  was  what  I  needed." 

Colonel  Fortescue  nodded  courteously ;  no- 
body could  stay  at  Fort  Blizzard  without  the 
permission  of  the  C.  0.  But  Broussard  felt 
that  the  Colonel  saw  through  him  and  beyond 
him.  As  Colonel  Fortescue  would  not  en- 
courage him  by  so  much  as  a  word,  Broussard 
kept  on : 

*  'In  the  Philippines,  I  heard  some  news  that 
was  enough  to  kill  a  well  man,  much  less  a 
man  just  out  of  jungle  fever.  You  perhaps 
remember,  sir,  the  man  Lawrence,  who,  I 
heard  in  the  Philippines,  had  deserted?"  * 

*'He  was  supposed  to  have  deserted,"  cor- 
rected the  Colonel,  who  was  always  the  soul  of 
accuracy. 

He  glanced  at  Broussard 's  face  and  saw 
there  deep  agitation  and  distress. 

"Lawrence  has  come  back,"  continued 
Broussard. 

Then  he  stopped,  as  if  unable  to  keep  on, 
and  taking  out  his  handkerchief,  wiped  away 
drops  upon  his  forehead,  so  deadly  white 
under  his  black  hair. 

Colonel  Fortescue  remained  silent.  He  saw 
that  Broussard  had  something  to  tell  that 

1«  177 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

racked  his  soul.  Broussard  sighed  heavily, 
and  after  a  pause  spoke  again : 

*'I  found  Lawrence  in  San  Francisco;  he 
was  trying  to  work  his  way  back  to  Fort 
Blizzard.  I  gave  him  the  money  to  come  and 
came  here  with  him.  He  wishes  to  give  him- 
self up  and  is  willing  to  take  his  punishment. 
He  got  frightened  at  striking  McGillicuddy 
and  deserted." 

*'Do  I  understand  that  Lawrence  was  re- 
turning voluntarily!"  asked  the  Colonel. 

*  'Yes,  sir — ^voluntarily.  He  saw  my  arrival 
in  the  San  Francisco  newspapers  and  came 
straight  to  my  hotel.  If  I  ever  saw  a  man 
crazy  with  remorse,  it  was  Lawrence.  His 
Bobs  and  cries  were  terrible  to  hear.  He  knew 
nothing  of  his  wife  and  child,  and  that,  too, 
was  helping  to  drive  him  to  madness." 

''His  wife  and  child  are  still  here,"  said 
Colonel  Fortescue.  "Lawrence's  disappear- 
ance has  nearly  killed  his  wife ;  that 's  always 
the  way  with  these  faithful  souls  who  do  no 
wrong  themselves.  But  somebody  else  always 
does  wrong  enough  for  both.  Where  is  Law- 
rence now?" 

"At  the  block  house,  a  mile  away,"  replied 
Broussard.  ' '  I  wished  to  see  you  before  Law- 
rence gives  himself  up." 

Broussard 's  strange  agitation  was  increas- 
ing. Colonel  Fortescue  took  up  a  newspaper 
and  glanced  at  it,  to  giv^  Broussard  a  chance 

178 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

to  recover  himself.   In  a  minute  or  two  Brous- 
sard  managed  to  speak  calmly. 

**You  remember,  sir,"  he  said,  **that  I 
asked  you  to  take  my  word  there  was  nothing 
wrong  in  my  association  with  Lawrence  and 
his  wife." 

* '  I  remember  quite  well, ' '  answered  Colonel 
Fortescue,  '^I  never  doubted  your  word." 

* '  Thank  you, ' '  said  Broussard.  Once  more 
he  wiped  the  cold  drops  from  his  forehead, 
and  continued  in  a  low  voice,  tremulous  and 
often  broken. 

''I  told  you  that  Lawrence  and  I  had  been 
playmates  in  our  boyhood,  although  he  is 
much  older  than  I.  Sir,  Lawrence  is  my  half- 
brother — the  son  of  my  mother.  She  was  an 
angel  on  earth,  and  she  is  now  an  angel  in 
Heaven.  If  heavenly  spirits  can  suffer,  my 
mother  suffers  this  day  that  her  son  should 
have  deserted  from  his  duty." 

Never  had  Colonel  Fortescue  felt  greater 
pity  for  a  man  than  for  Broussard  then.  The 
shame  of  confessing  that  his  mother's  son  had 
forfeited  his  honor  was  like  death  itself  to 
Broussard. 

'  'But  there  is  joy  in  Heaven  over  a  penitent 
sinner,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue,  who  believed 
in  God,  and  was  neither  afraid  nor  ashamed 
to  say  so. 

Broussard  bowed  his  head. 

**My  mother — God  bless  her — was  the  very 

179 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

spirit  of  honor.  She  was  the  daughter  of  an 
officer.  When  I  was  a  little  chap  and  said  I 
wanted  to  be  a  soldier,  she  would  tell  me  the 
stories  of  the  Spartan  mothers,  who  bade  their 
sons  return  with  their  shields  or  on  them. 
Thank  God,  she  was  taken  away  before  dis- 
honor fell  upon  her  eldest  son.  She  thought 
him  dead,  and  so  did  I,  until  last  January, 
when  Lawrence  told  me,  the  night  before  I  left 
this  post,  who  he  really  was.  When  I  met  him 
in  San  Francisco  I  told  him  I  would  come  with 
him  here  to  give  himself  up,  that  I  would 
acknowledge  him  for  my  half-brother,  that  I 
would  sit  by  him  at  his  court-martial  and  go 
to  the  door  of  the  military  prison  with  him. 
He  begged  me  to  keep  our  relationship  secret 
for  the  sake  of  our  mother 's  memory. ' ' 

Colonel  Fortescue  held  out  his  hand,  and 
grasped  that  of  BrOussard. 

''You  speak  like  a  man,"  he  said,  ''but 
Lawrence  is  right  in  keeping  the  relationship 
a  secret,  and  it  shows  that  he  understands  the 
height  from  which  he  has  fallen.  Does  his 
wife  know  of  the  relationship?" 

' '  Yes,  sir, ' '  Broussard  replied.  ' ' I  thought 
it  best  to  tell  her.  But  she  kept  the  secret 
well.  My  brother's  wife  is  worthy  of  my 
mother. ' ' 

"There  are  many  heroic  women  in  the 
world,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue. 

' '  True, ' '  answered  Broussard.    ' '  My  sister- 

180 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

in-law  was  glad  when  my  brother  enlisted. 
She  said  it  was  a  good  thing  for  him,  and  he 
undoubtedly  did  better  at  this  post  than  he 
had  done  for  a  long  time.  And  his  wife,  who 
was  bom  and  bred  to  luxury,  stood  by  my 
brother  and  tried  to  save  him.  She  worked 
and  slaved  for  him  harder  than  any  private 's 
wife  I  ever  saw.  She  never  uttered  a  re- 
proach to  him.  Each  day  she  mounted  a  Cal- 
vary. I  could  kiss  the  hem  of  that  woman's 
gown,  in  reverence  for  her." 

*'So  could  I,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue. 

*'0f  counse,"  continued  Broussard,  '*I  told 
her  and  wrote  her  that  neither  she  nor  her 
child  should  ever  suffer.  I  have  sent  her 
money — all  that  was  needed,  as  I  have  some- 
thing besides  my  pay. ' ' 

The  Colonel,  recalling  the  motors,  the 
oriental  rugs,  the  grand  piano,  and  other 
articles  de  luxe,  which  Broussard  had  once 
possessed,  thought  Broussard  had  a  trifle  too 
much  beside  his  pay. 

**I  don't  think  she  has  had  much  use  for 
money  since  her  husband  deserted,"  said 
Colonel  Fortescue.  * '  She  has  been  constantly 
ill.  My  wife  and  daughter  and  the  other 
ladies  at  the  post  have  done  everything  pos- 
sible for  her,  and  Sergeant  McGillicuddy  took 
the  boy.  McOillicuddy  feels  himself  respon- 
sible for  Lawrence  running  away.  He  said 
something  exasperating  to  Lawrence,  who 

181 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

struck  him  in  a  fit  of  rage,  and  then  ran 
away. ' ' 

' '  So  my  sister-in-law  wrote,  or  rather  Miss 
Fortescue  wrote  for  her. ' ' 

*'The  army  is  the  place  for  good  hearts," 
said  the  Colonel,  well  knowing  what  he  was 
talking  about. 

As  Colonel  Fortescue  spoke,  a  man  was 
seen,  in  the  fast  falling  dusk,  to  pass  the 
window.  The  next  moment  a  tap  came  at  the 
door,  and  when  Colonel  Fortescue  answered, 
the  door  opened  and  Lawrence  walked  in. 

The  Colonel,  who  had  watched  Lawrence 
closely,  saw  a  subtle  change  in  him.  He  held 
his  head  up,  and  his  face,  always  handsome, 
had  lost  the  dissipated,  reckless  look  that  dis- 
sipated and  reckless  men  readily  acquire.  His 
hair  and  mustache,  which  a  year  before  had 
been  coal  black,  were  now  quite  grey;  he 
seemed  another  man  than  he  had  once  been. 
He  saluted  the  Colonel,  and  said  quietly: 

''I  have  come,  sir,  to  give  myself  up — ^I  am 
the  man,  John  Lawrence,  who  struck  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy  last  January,  and  deserted." 

"You  were  a  great  fool,"  replied  the 
Colonel,  ''I  think  it  was  a  clear  case  of  a  fool's 
panic. ' ' 

''All  I  have  to  say,  sir,"  said  Lawrence, 
after  a  moment, ' '  is,  that  I  had  no  intention  of 
deserting  until  I  struck  the  Sergeant  and  got 
frightened.    And  I've  been  trying  to  get  back 

182 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

for  the  last  two  months.  Mr.  Broussard  can 
tell  you  all  about  it. ' ' 

"Mr.  Broussard  has  told  me  all  about  it," 
said  the  Colonel.  "Consider  yourself  under 
arrest  until  nine  o'clock  tomorrow  morning, 
when  you  will  report  at  the  headquarters 
building.  Meanwhile,  go  to  your  wife;  she 
is  a  million  times  too  good  for  you. '  * 

"I  know  it,  sir,"  replied  Lawrence. 

"And  my  wife  is  a  million  times  too  good 
for  me,"  added  the  Colonel,  reflectively. 

Lawrence  went  out  and  Broussard  rose 
to  go. 

"You  have  not  asked  me  to  consider  this 
talk  as  confidential, "  said  the  Colonel,  "never- 
theless, I  shall  so  consider  it.  As  your 
Colonel,  I  advise  and  require  that  you  should 
say  nothing  about  Lawrence 's  relationship  to 
you.  This  much  is  due  your  mother 's  memory. ' ' 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Broussard,  a 
great  load  lifted  from  his  heart. 

Broussard  did  not  wish  to  go  at  once  to 
Mrs.  Lawrence;  she  should  have  one  hour 
alone  with  her  husband.  Nor  did  he  care  to 
go  to  the  officers'  club  at  that  moment.  He 
walked  toward  the  quarters  of  the  non-com- 
missioned officers,  scarcely  noticing  where  his 
steps  led.  As  he  passed  the  McGillicuddy 
quarters,  the  door  opened,  and  little  Ronald 
ran  out  bareheaded.  He  recognized  Brous- 
sard, and  Broussard,  feeling  strongly  and 

183 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

strangely  the  call  of  the  blood,  took  the  boy  in 
his  arms  and  covered  his  little  face  with  kisses, 
much  to  the  lad's  surprise,  and  sent  him  to  the 
house.  The  next  minute,  Broussard  came  face 
to  face  with  Sergeant  McGillicuddy. 
The  Sergeant,  who  did  not  often  smile  in 


those  days,  smiled  when  he  saw  Broussard. 

"But,  Mr.  Broussard,  you  don't  look  quite 
fit,'*  said  the  Sergeant.  "The  Philippines, 
drat  'em,  ain't  good  for  the  complexion." 

"I  know  I  look  like  the  devil,"  replied 
Broussard,  "but  I'm  on  sick  leave  and  I  hope 
Fort  Blizzard  is  the  right  kind  of  a  climate 

184 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

for  me.  By  the  way,  the  man  Lawrence,  who 
deserted  in  January,  has  come  back.  We 
travelled  from  San  Francisco  together.  He 
has  already  given  himself  up — voluntarily, 
you  know." 

In  the  gloom  of  the  November  twilight 
Broussard  could  not  see  the  Sergeant's  face 
clearly.  There  was  a  bench  close  by,  on  the 
edge  of  the  asphalt  walk,  and  the  Sergeant 
dropped  rather  than  sat  upon  it. 

''Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said  to  Broussard, 
' '  but  the  news  you  give  me  takes  all  my  nerve 
away,  and  yet  it's  the  best  news  I  ever  heard 
in  my  life.  You  know,  sir,  it  was  some  words 
of  mine — and  God  knows  I  never  meant  to 
harm  Lawrence — that  made  him  strike  me, 
and  then  he  got  scared  and " 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  replied  Broussard, 
sitting  down  on  the  bench  by  the  Sergeant. 
' '  Of  course,  you  felt  pretty  bad  about  it.  Any 
man  would." 

Something  between  a  sob  and  a  groan  burst 
from  the  Sergeant. 

"I've  worn  chevrons  for  twenty-seven 
years,  sir,"  he  said.  *'I  was  made  a  sergeant 
when  I  was  twenty-five.  I've  handled  all 
sorts  of  men  and  licked  'em  into  shape  and  I 
ain't  got  it  on  my  conscience  as  I  ever  tried 
to  make  a  man's  lot  any  harder,  or  to  dis- 
courage him,  and  I  never  spoke  an  insultin* 
word  to  a  soldier  in  my  life,  and  I  hope  I'll 

185 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

be  called  to  report  to  the  Great  Commander' 
before  I  do.  But  I  said  something  chafl&n'- 
like  to  that  poor  devil  and  he  struck  me,  and  I 
didn't  hit  him  back — I  didn't  hit  him  back, 
thank  God,  nor  threaten  to  report  him.  But 
I  had  to  tell  the  truth  to  the  Colonel  and  take 
part  of  the  blame  on  myself. ' ' 

*' That's  right/'  answered  Broussard  with 
deep  feeling.  The  Sergeant  little  knew  how 
great  a  stake  Broussard  had  in  the  business. 

*'And  the  chaplain,  he  seen  something  was 
wrong  with  me  and  so  did  Missis  McGillicuddy 
— she's  a  soldier,  sir,  is  Missis  McGillicuddy. 
I  made  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  the  chaplain 
and  he  helped  me  a  lot.  I've  been  goin'  to 
church  on  Sundays  ever  since  I  was  married— 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  sir.  Missis  McGillicuddy 
marched  me  off  every  Sunday  without  askin' 
me  if  it  was  agreeable,  any  more  than  she'd 
ask  Ignatius  or  Aloysius.  But  since  my 
trouble,  I've  gone  of  my  own  will,  and  I've 
headed  the  prayin'  squad,  I  can  tell  you,  Mr. 
Broussard."    . 

*'And  you  took  good  care  of  the  boy,  you 
and  Mrs.  McGillicuddy, "  said  Broussard,  who 
had  learned  of  it  from  the  letter  written  by 
Anita  at  Mrs.  Lawrence's  request.  The  Ser- 
geant took  off  his  cap  for  a  moment,  baring 
his  grey  head  to  the  biting  cold. 

* '  The  best  we  could,  so  help  me  G  od.  There 
wasn't  nothin*  me  and  Missis  McGillicuddy 

1S6 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

conld  do  for  the  kid  as  we  didn't  do.  The 
chaplain  told  us  we  done  too  much,  we  was 
over-indulgent  to  the  boy.  But  we  taught  him 
to  do  right,  although  we  give  him  better  food 
and  better  clothes  than  any  of  our  own  eight 
children  ever  had,  and  now " 

The  Sergeant  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
his  cap  once  more  in  his  hand,  his  head  bowed. 
Broussard  knew  he  was  giving  thanks. 

Broussard,  under  cover  of  the  darkness, 
took  his  way  to  the  quarters  which  Mrs.  Law- 
rence had  never  left.  He  knocked  and,  re- 
ceiving no  answer,  entered  the  narrow  pas- 
sage-way and  walked  into  the  little  sitting- 
room.  Lawrence  lay  back  in  the  arm  chair 
in  which  his  wife  had  spent  so  many  hours  of 
helpless  misery.  His  face  was  paler  than 
ever  and  his  lank  hair  lay  damp  upon 
his  forehead.  Mrs.  Lawrence,  who  had  been 
suffering  from  the  cruel  malady  known  as  a 
shamed  and  broken  heart,  sat  by  her  husband, 
speaking  words  of  cheer  and  tenderness.  As 
Broussard  entered  she  rose  to  her  feet  with 
new  energy,  no  longer  tottering  as  she  walked, 
and  placed  both  arms  about  Broussard 's  neck. 

**0h,  my  brother!  The  best  of  brothers," 
she  cried  and  could  say  no  more  for  her  tears. 

Presently  they  were  sitting  together,  all 
externally  calm,  but  all  filled  with  a  tense 
emotion. 

"Try  to  persuade  her,"  said  Lawrence  to 

187 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Broussard,  "to  go  away  before  the  court- 
martial  sits.    It  will  be  too  much  for  her. '  * 

Mrs.  Lawrence  turned  her  dark  eyes,  once 
tragic  but  now  brimming  with  light,  full  on 
Broussard.    Broussard  said  to  Lawrence: 

"These  angelic  women  are  very  obstinate.** 

"Would  your  mother,  of  whom  my  husband 
has  told  me  so  much,  go  away  if  she  were  in 
my  place  1 ' ' 

Both  Broussard  and  Lawrence  remained 
silent. 

"Then,"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  "can  you 
blame  me  if  I  act  as  your  mother  would  act?'* 

Broussard  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it ;  the 
marks  of  toil  upon  it  went  to  his  soul. 

"But  the  boy  must  be  sent  away,"  cried 
Lawrence. 

"Yes,  he  may  go,"  replied  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
"but  I  shall  stay." 

It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock,  the  hour  for 
dinner  at  the  officers'  club,  before  Broussard 
left  the  Lawrences '  quarters.  All  the  men  at 
the  club  were  delighted  to  see  Broussard,  and 
all  of  them  told  him  he  looked  seedy  and  every 
one  who  had  served  in  the  Philippines  and  had 
caught  the  jungle  fever  proposed  a  different 
regimen  for  him,  but  all  agreed  that  Fort 
Blizzard  was  a  good  place  to  recuperate  and 
that  the  "old  man,"  as  the  conunanding  offi- 
cer is  always  called,  was  rather  a  decent  fel- 
low, and  might  let  him  stay,  and  then  they 

188 


THE  PLEADING  EYES  OF  WOMEN 

plunged  into  garrison  news  and  gossip. 
Broussard  was  thoroughly  glad  to  be  back 
once  more  at  the  handsome  mess  table,  with 
the  bright  faces  of  the  subalterns  around  him 
and  the  cheery  talk  and  honest  laughter, 
but  his  heart  was  full  of  other  things 
— Anita  Fortescue,  for  instance,  and  Law- 
rence and  his  wife  and  the  little  boy.  Some 
questions  were  asked  him  about  Lawrence. 
Broussard  replied  briefly  that  he  found  the 
man  in  San  Francisco  trying  to  get  back  to 
Fort  Blizzard ;  he  wanted  to  give  himself  up 
at  the  scene  of  his  crime  and  Broussard  had 
paid  for  his  railway  ticket. 

"And  brought  him  with  you  to  keep  him 
from  getting  away,"  said  Conway,  "very  ju- 
dicious thing  to  do  with  men  like  Lawrence. ' ' 

"I  think  he  would  have  given  himself  up 
anyway, ' '  Broussard  replied  quietly. 

Military  justice  is  short  and  simple  and 
severe.  Within  forty-eight  hours  the  court- 
martial  sat.  As  Lawrence  marched  into  the 
courtroom  between  two  soldiers,  guarding  him, 
his  wife,  dressed  in  black,  as  always,  and  with 
Mrs.  McGillicuddy  sitting  near  her,  rose  from 
her  seat  and  took  another  one  as  close  to  her 
husband  as  she  could  get  and  smiled  encour- 
agement at  him.  Lawrence,  watching  her 
tender  gaze,  burst  into  tears. 

It  was  all  done  very  quickly.  Sergeant  Mc- 
Gillicuddy   was  one  of  the  two  witnesses, 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Broussard  being  the  other.  The  Sergeant  tes- 
tified as  if  he  were  the  criminal  and  not  Law- 
rence. Broussard  was  the  second  witness  and 
merely  told  of  Lawrence  coming  to  him  in  San 
Francisco,  saying  he  wished  to  get  to  Fort 
Blizzard  and  give  himself  up.  He  could  have 
done  so  at  San  Francisco  but  he  wanted  to 
see  his  wife  and  child  and  believed  he  would 
get  more  mercy  at  Fort  Blizzard  than  any 
where  else. 

Then  the  prisoner  was  called  to  tell  his 
story.  He  did  it  quietly  and  in  a  few  words. 
He  had  no  thought  of  deserting  until  he  struck 
the  Sergeant.  Then  he  was  frightened  and 
ran  away  and,  making  the  railway  station, 
hid  in  a  freight  car  and  got  away.  He  worked 
his  way  East,  and  found  employment  as  a 
miner  and  was  earning  good  wages,  but  his 
conscience  troubled  him,  especially  after  he 
received  a  letter  from  his  wife.  He  had  got 
as  far  as  San  Francisco,  which  took  all  his 
savings,  when  he  saw  Mr.  Broussard 's  name 
in  the  newspapers  and  went  to  see  him.  He 
asked  the  mercy  of  the  court. 

The  court  was  merciful,  and  gave  him  the 
shortest  possible  prison  sentence,  to  be  served 
out  at  the  military  prison  of  Fort  Blizzard. 
All  the  officers  kept  their  eyes  turned  from  the 
pale  woman  in  black,  sitting  close  to  the  pris- 
oner. They  wished  to  do  justice  and  not  to  be 
turned  from  it  by  a  woman's  pleading  eyes. 

190 


CHAPTER  VIII 
LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

Beoussard  meant  to  spend  his  three  months* 
leave  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness  at  Fort 
Blizzard,  where  he  could  see  Anita  every  day 
if  he  wanted — and  he  always  wanted  to  see 
Anita.  She  was  now  nearing  her  nineteenth 
birthday  and  could  hardly  be  considered  the 
infant  which  Colonel  Fortescue  continued  to 
proclaim  her  to  be. 

The  day  after  Broussard's  arrival  was  Sun- 
day and  on  Sunday  afternoons  Broussard 
knew  he  should  find  Anita  at  home.  It  was 
the  pleasant  custom,  in  the  C.  O.'s  house  for 
Mrs.  Fortescue  to  receive  the  young  officers, 
for  whom  she  always  had  a  tender  spot  in  her 
heart.  Broussard  was  one  of  the  later  ar- 
rivals. Already  through  the  great  windows 
the  blue  peaks  of  ice  were  seen,  touched  with 
a  moment 's  golden  glory  from  the  setting  sun, 
and  the  purple  shadows  were  softly  descend- 
ing upon  the  snow-white  world. 

The  first  member  of  the  Fortescue  house- 
hold who  met  Broussard  gave  him  a  raptur- 
ous greeting.  This  was  Kettle,  who  opened 
the  massive  doors  to  visitors. 

"Hi!  Mr.  Broussard,  I  cert'ny  is  glad  to 
see  you,  and  Miss  'Nita,  she  is  right  heah  in 

191 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

the  dra win '-room,  and  I  spect  she  jump  fer 
joy  when  she  see  you!"  shouted  Kettle,  who 
was  a  child  of  nature  and  spoke  the  truth  as 
he  saw  it. 

''And  I'm  glad  enough  to  get  back  to  snow 
and  ice  after  snakes  and  mosquitoes  and 
Moros,"  replied  Broussard. 

Immediately  a  small  financial  transaction 
passed  between  Broussard  and  Kettle,  accom- 
panied with  the  usual  wink  from  Broussard 
and  grin  from  Kettle. 

''She  doan'  take  no  notice  of  none  of  'em," 
whispered  Kettle  confidentially,  "she  jes' 
smile  at  'em  all  and  goes  'long  thinkin'  about 
you ! " 

This  was  most  encouraging  and  Broussard 
considered  it  well  worth  a  quarter. 

As  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  bright 
with  a  glowing  wood  fire,  Anita,  who  was  en- 
trenched behind  a  little  tea  table,  rose  to  greet 
him.  She  wore  a  little  white  gown  and  like 
another  white  gown  of  hers  it  had  a  train- 
Anita  was  very  anxious  to  appear  as  old  as 
possible.  As  Broussard  spoke  to  Mrs.  For- 
tescue,  who  received  him  with  her  usual  grace- 
ful cordiality,  they  could  hear  from  the  plaza 
the  band  playing  the  solemn  hymn  which  pre- 
cedes the  retreat  on  Sunday  afternoons.  Sud- 
denly the  sunset  gun  roared  out,  showing  that 
the  flag  was  descending  from  the  flagstaff.  At 
once,  every  one  in  the  room  rose  and  stood  re- 

192 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

spectfully  at  attention  until  the  flag  came 
down.  Broussard,  in  the  friendly  shadow  of 
the  tea  table,  held  on  a  moment  to  Anita's 
hand.  She  looked  straight  away  from  Brous- 
sard, her  red  lips  smiling  at  an  infatuated 
second  lieutenant  on  the  other  side  of  her,  but 
her  cheeks,  already  of  a  delicate  rose  color, 
hung  out  the  scarlet  flag  which  means,  in  love, 
a  surrender.  Broussard  even  felt  a  faint  re- 
turning pressure  of  the  fingers,  so  well 
screened  that  only  they  themselves  knew  of 
the  meeting  of  the  hands. 

Then  they  all  sat  down  again  and  the  pleas- 
ant talk  began  once  more,  Anita  taking  her 
part  with  a  subdued  current  of  gaiety  un- 
usual in  her,  for,  as  Mrs.  Fortescue  was 
essentially  L 'Allegro,  so  Anita  was  by  nature 
II  Penseroso. 

Once  more,  when  the  color-sergeant  brought 
the  flag  in,  and  placed  it  in  a  corner  of  the  fine 
drawing-room,  all  present  stood  up;  then 
there  was  much  merry  chatter  and  tea  and 
chaff  and  that  universal  kindliness  which 
seems  to  develop  around  a  friendly  tea  table. 
One  thing  surprised  Broussard — not  only  that 
Anita  appeared  quite  grown  up  but  that  she 
could  talk  of  many  things  of  which  he  had 
never  before  heard  her  speak.  As  for  the  Phil- 
ippines, she  had  all  the  lore  about  them  at  her 
finger  tips.  Broussard,  watching  her  out  of 
the  tail  of  his  eye,  saw  that  she  was  no  longer 

13  193 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

the  adorable  child,  who  lived  with  her  birds 
and  her  violin,  but  an  adorable  woman,  who 
had  learned  to  think  and  feel  and  speak  as  a 
woman.  How  was  it  that  she  had  read  so 
many  books  on  the  Philippines? 

"When  did  you  begin  your  study  of  the 
Philippines?"  asked  the  wily  Broussard. 

* '  Only  since  January, ' '  answered  Anita ;  and 
realizing  that  she  had  unconsciously  revealed 
a  great  secret  she  lowered  her  lashes  and 
turned  her  violet  eyes  away  from  Broussard. 

That  night,  over  his  last  cigar  in  his  room 
at  the  officers'  club,  Broussard  began  to  plan 
a  regular  campaign  for  Anita  against  Colonel 
Fortescue.  But  ever  in  the  midst  of  it  would 
come  those  sweet  inadvertent  words  of  Anita's 
and  Broussard  would  fall  into  a  delicious 
reverie  with  which  Colonel  Fortescue  had  no 
part.  But  then  Broussard  would  come  back  to 
the  real  business  of  the  matter^ — outgener ai- 
ling Colonel  Fortescue — ^for  everybody  knew 
how  devoted  Anita  was  to  her  father  and 
Broussard  considered  the  C.  0.  as  a  lion  in  his 
path.  Of  course,  the  old  curmudgeon,  as 
Broussard  in  his  own  mind  called  the  Colonel, 
would  rake  up  a  lot  of  imaginary  objections — 
he  always  was  a  martinet,  and  would  be  a  stiff 
proposition  to  master  in  the  present  emer- 
gency. Broussard  was  tolerably  certain  of 
Mrs.  Fortescue 's  assistance,  who  was  an  open 
and  confessed  sentimentalist,  and  was  gener- 

194 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

ally  understood  to  be  the  guardian  angel  of  all 
the  love  affairs  at  Fort  Blizzard.  'Beverley 
Fortescue  might  be  reckoned  as  a  neutral,  be- 
ing himself  in  the  toils  of  Sally  Harlow,  who 
was  Anita's  age.  Then,  Kettle  and  the  After- 
Clap  could  be  reckoned  upon  as  auxiliaries — 
Broussard  swore  at  himself  for  not  remem- 
bering the  After-Clap's  existence  that  after- 
noon ;  Anita  was  ridiculously  fond  of  the  little 
chap. 

But  Colonel  Fortescue  would  be  a  hard  nut 
to  crack — Broussard  threw  the  stump  of  his 
cigar  into  the  jfire  and  thought  all  fathers  of 
adorable  daughters  highly  undesirable  per- 
sons. After  long  and  hard  thinking  Brous- 
sard concluded  to  begin  at  once  an  earnest 
and  devoted  courtship  of  Colonel  Fortescue 
as  the  best  way  to  win  Anita. 

"Because  I'll  have  to  court  the  old  fellow 
anyhow,  cuss  him!"  was  Broussard 's  inner 
belief.  **  Anita  will  expect  any  man  she  mar- 
ries to  be  as  much  in  love  with  the  Colonel  as 
she  is — so  here  goes !" 

The  very  next  morning  Broussard  began 
his  open  attentions  to  the  Colonel  and  his  se- 
cret wooing  of  Anita.  He  had  plenty  of  op- 
portunities for  both.  It  was  easy  enough  to 
see  Anita  every  day.  Often  they  rode  to- 
gether in  the  gay  riding  parties  that  were 
among  the  constant  amusements  of  the  young 
things  at  the  post.   Then,  there  was  the  weekly 

195 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

dance  in  the  great  ball-room  and  many  little 
dances  and  dinners,  and  Broussard  always 
contrived  to  be  with  Anita  the  best  part  of 
the  evening.  He  was  always  willing  to  sing 
and  Anita  was  always  ready  to  play  the  violin 
obligates  for  him.  Broussard  developed 
wonderful  knowledge  of  song  birds  and  en- 
tirely abandoned  game  chickens,  and  was  as- 
tonishingly regular  in  his  attendance  at  the 
chapel,  which  induced  Anita  to  think  him  a 
model  of  Christian  piety.  If  Broussard  had 
been  a  conceited  man  he  would  have  seen  that 
Anita's  heart  was  his  long  before  he  asked 
for  it ;  but  being  a  modest  fellow  and  think- 
ing Anita  was  but  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels,  Broussard  paid  her  the  delicate  and 
tender  court  which  women  love  so  well. 

The  regimen  of  love  and  leisure  did  wonders 
for  Broussard.  His  thin  face  filled  up,  his 
color  returned,  he  was  soon  able  to  dance  and 
ride  and  shoot  with  the  best  of  his  comrades. 
He  did  not  forget  the  man  in  the  military 
prison  or  the  wife  that  watched  and  waited 
and  prayed  and  hoped.  But  there  was  reason 
to  hope:  Lawrence  was,  from  the  beginning, 
a  model  prisoner,  and  the  chaplain,  who  had 
lost,  in  the  course  of  years,  some  of  his  con- 
fidence in  repentance,  began  once  more  to  be- 
lieve that  it  was  possible  to  regenerate  a 
man's  soul.    Most  prisoners  are  a  trifle  too 

196 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

ready  to  accept  the  theory  of  the  forgiveness 
of  sins.  Not  so  Lawrence.  Often,  he  had 
paroxysms  of  despair,  accusing  himself  wildly 
and  doubting  whether  the  good  God  could 
forgive  so  evil  a  sinner  as  he.  Sometimes,  he 
would  refuse  to  see  his  wife,  declaring  he  was 
not  fit  for  her  to  speak  to;  again,  he  would 
weep  and  ask  for  a  sight  of  his  child,  now  far 
away  and  in  good  hands.  All  these  things, 
and  more,  the  chaplain  knew,  from  long  ex- 
perience, meant  that  Lawrence's  soul  was 
struggling  toward  the  light.  Eegularly 
Broussard  went  to  see  him  at  the  prison  and 
the  two  men,  the  high-minded  officer  and  the 
disgraced  private,  were  drawn  together  by  the 
secret  bond  between  them.  Often,  they  talked 
in  whispers  of  their  dead  mother  and  Brous- 
sard would  say  to  Lawrence : 

**Our  mother's  spirit  and  your  wife's  love 
ought  to  save  you. ' ' 

Another  visitor  Lawrence  had  was  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy.  The  Sergeant's  merciful  soul 
could  not  accept  the  chaplain's  theory  that 
the  blow  provoked  by  McOillicuddy  had  been 
Lawrence's  salvation. 

*'I  never  knew  a  man  who  was  helped  by 
being  a  deserter,  sir,"  was  the  Sergeant's  an- 
swer to  the  chaplain's  kindly  sophism,  "but 
Lawrence  is  a  penitent  man — that  I  see  with 
my  own  eyes.  I  don't  need  no  chaplain  to  tell 
me  that,  sir." 

197 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Meanwhile,  Broussard  kept  up  a  steady 
courtship  of  Colonel  Fortescue.  Whatever 
views  the  Colonel  advanced,  Broussard 
promptly  endorsed.  He  gave  up  cock  fight- 
ing, motors,  superfluous  clothes  and  high- 
priced  horses,  and,  if  his  word  could  be  taken 
for  it,  he  had  adopted  Spartan  tastes  and 
meant  to  stick  to  them.  Colonel  Fortescue 
rated  Broussard 's  newly-acquired  taste  for 
the  simple  life  at  its  true  value,  and  was  some- 
times a  trifle  sardonic  over  it. 

"I  wish,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue  savagely 
one  night  in  his  office,  where  he  always  smoked 
his  last  cigar,  Mrs.  Fortescue  sitting  by,  '*I 
wish  Broussard  would  let  up  a  little  in  his 
attention  to  me.  I  know  exactly  what  it  means 
and  it  is  getting  to  be  an  awful  nuisance." 

** Cheer  up,"  answered  Mrs.  Fortescue  en- 
couragingly, ''he'll  let  up  on  his  devotion  to 
you  as  soon  as  he  marries  Anita — for  I  have 
seen  ever  since  the  night  of  the  music  ride  that 
Anita  has  a  secret  preference  for  him,  and 
it's  very  natural — Broussard  is  an  attractive 
man. ' ' 

"Can't  see  it,"  growled  the  Colonel. 

**If  you  would  just  limber  up  a  little  and 
not  be  so  stiff  with  him,"  urged  Mrs.  For- 
tescue, ''let  him  see  he  can  have  Anita." 

"How  can  I  limber  up  and  tell  him  he  can 
have  Anita?"  roared  the  Colonel.  "The  fel- 
low hasn  't  asked  me  for  Anita. ' ' 

198 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

*'He's  asking  you  all  the  time,"  answered 
Mrs.  Fortescue,  smiling. 

Colonel  Fortescue  looked  up  at  her  with 
sombre  eyes.  He  had  seen  Anita  become  the 
target  for  the  flashing  eyes  of  junior  officers. 
He  realized  that  Mrs.  Fortescue,  woman-like, 
did  not  share  and  could  not  understand  the 
pangs  of  his  soul  at  the  thought  of  parting 
with  Anita.  He  had  often  observed  that 
mothers  willingly  gave  their  daughters  in 
marriage,  but  he  had  never  seen  a  father  give 
up  his  daughter  cheerfully  to  another  man. 
Mrs.  Fortescue  saw  something  of  this  in  Colo- 
nel Fortescue 's  face  and  leaned  her  cheek 
against  his. 

''Dear,"  she  said,  **I  believe  most  fathers 
suffer  as  you  do  at  the  thought  of  giving  up 
a  daughter  and  some  day  I  shall  suffer  the 
same  at  giving  up  my  son  to  another  woman. 
So,  after  all,  since  our  children  will  take  on  a 
new  love,  we  must  return  to  our  honeymoon 
days  and  not  let  anything  matter  so  long  as 
we  are  together.  Then,  the  After-Clap — ^I 
always  feel  so  ridiculously  young  whenever  I 
look  at  that  baby." 

At  this  the  Colonel's  heart  was  soothed  and 
he  did  not  hate  Broussard  quite  so  much. 

There  was,  however,  no  let-up  in  Brous- 
sard's  ardent  wooing  of  the  Colonel,  who 
took  it  a  trifle  more  graciously.  One  after- 
noon, late  in  December,  Broussard,  passing 

199 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

the  headquarters  building,  saw  Colonel  For- 
tescue's  orderly  holding  the  bridle  reins  of 
Gamechick,  who  was  saddled.  Broussard  was 
in  his  riding  clothes  and  was  himself  wait- 
ing for  the  horse  lent  him  for  the  afternoon 
by  a  brother  officer.  He  stopped  and  began 
to  pat  Gamechick 's  beautiful  neck  and  the 
horse,  who  was,  like  all  intelligent  horses,  a 
sentimentalist,  rubbed  his  nose  against  Brous- 
sard's  head,  and  said,  as  plainly  as  a  horse 
can  say : 

''Dear  master,  I  love  you  still." 

Colonel  Fortescue,  coming  out  of  the  gate, 
saw  Broussard,  and  his  heart  softened  as  he 
recalled  the  last  time  he  had  seen  Broussard 
riding  Gamechick.  It  was  now  nearly  a  year 
ago. 

''Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Broussard,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "I  see  you  are  dressed  for  riding. 
Perhaps  you  would  like  to  ride  that  old 
charger  again ;  if  so,  I  will  send  for  my  own 
horse.  Gamechick  belongs  to  my  daughter 
and  I  only  ride  him  to  keep  him  in  condition, 
because  sometimes  she  is  a  little  lazy  about 
exercising  him. '  * 

"Ladies  are  seldom  judicious  with  horses," 
answered  Broussard,  agreeing  as  always  with 
Colonel  Fortescue.  "I  shall  be  glad  to  ride 
the  old  horse  once  more,  and  thank  you  very 
much. ' ' 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  Colonel 's  own  horse 

900 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

was  brought  and  the  two  men,  mounting,  rode 
off  and  away  from  the  post  for  an  hour 's  brisk 
ride  in  the  late  winter  afternoon. 

Broussard,  whose  tongue  was  usually 
frozen  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth  when  he  was 
in  the  Colonel's  presence,  felt  a  sudden  sense 
of  freedom  and  talked  naturally  and  therefore 
intelligently.  His  description  of  military 
affairs  in  the  East  was  wonderfully  illumi- 
nating, and  the  Colonel  plied  him  with 
questions.  They  were  so  interested  in  their 
talk  that  they  reached  the  spur  of  the  moun- 
tain ranges  before  they  knew  it.  The  crisp 
air  had  got  into  their  blood  and  into  that  of 
their  horses,  which  took  the  mountain  road 
sharply,  and  at  an  eager  trot.  They  had 
climbed  a  good  mile  along  the  steep  winding 
road,  the  snow  under  their  feet  frozen  as  hard 
as  stone,  the  rocks  ice-coated,  and  the  fir 
trees  like  great  trees  of  crystal.  Gamechick 
was  so  sure-footed  that  Broussard  gave  him 
the  reins  but  Colonel  Fortescue  watched  his 
horse  carefully. 

Ahead  of  them  was  a  sudden  turn  in  the 
road  under  the  great  overhanging  cliff,  and 
on  it,  a  magnificent  fir  tree  reared  itself,  glit- 
tering with  icicles,  in  the  rose-red  light  of  the 
sunset. 

*'Look,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue,  pointing 
to  the  tree.  "Was  there  ever  anything  more 
beautiful?" 

301 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

As  the  words  leftJiis  lips  lie  saw,  and  Brous- 
sard  saw,  a  huge  boulder  suddenly  start  down 
the  mountain  side  and  strike  like  a  cannon 
ball  the  splendid  tree.  There  was  a  fearful 
breaking  and  splintering  and  all  at  once  it 
was  as  if  the  cliff  crumbled  and  trees  and 
boulders  and  ice  and  snow  came  thundering 
and  crashing  down  into  the  roadway.  One 
moment  the  crystal  air  had  been  so  still  that 
the  click  of  the  iron  hoofs  of  their  horses 
seemed  to  be  the  only  sound  in  the  world.  The 
next  minute  the  roar  of  breaking  trees  and 
falling  rocks  echoed  like  an  earthquake  and  a 
white  cloud  of  misty  snow  and  flying  icicles 
hid  the  steel-blue  heavens. 

It  was  done  in  such  a  fragment  and  flash 
of  time  that  Broussard  hardly  knew  what  had 
happened.  He  found  himself  standing  on  his 
feet,  entangled  in  the  frozen  branches  of  a  fir 
tree.  A  little  way  off  he  heard  Gamechick, 
whinnying  with  fear,  while  under  a  fallen 
boulder  Colonel  Fortescue's  horse  lay,  his 
neck  broken.  Close  by  Colonel  Fortescue  lay 
stark  upon  the  ground.  Broussard  ran  to  him ; 
he  was  lying  upon  his  back  and  said  as  coolly 
as  if  on  dress  parade : 

"I  had  a  pretty  close  shave,  but  I  don't 
think  I  'm  hurt,  except  my  ankle. ' ' 

Broussard,  having  had  experience  with  in- 
jured men,  thumped  and  punched  the  Colonel 
only  to  find  that  he  was  not  injured  in  any 

S03 


way  except  the  broken  ankle ;  but  a  man  with 
a  broken  ankle,  six  miles  away  from  the  fort, 
with  night  coming  on,  and  the  thermometer 
below  zero,  presents  problems. 

''"What  a  pity  neither  of  us  has  a  pistol," 
said  Colonel  Fortescue,  when  Broussard  had 
got  him  up  from  the  frozen  earth  and 
arranged  a  rude  seat  from  the  branches  of  the 
fir  tree  for  him.  **We  could  kill  my  poor 
horse  and  end  his  sufferings." 

''He's  already  dead,  thank  God,"  replied 
Broussard,  going  over  and  looking  at  the 
horse,  lying  as  still  and  helpless  as  the  rock 
that  lay  upon  his  neck.  Gamechick,  the  broken 
rein  hanging  upon  his  neck,  stood  trembling 
and  snorting  with  terror. 

"I  think  you  had  better  ride  back  to  the 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

post  and  get  help,"  said  Colonel  Fortescue. 

Broussard  walked  toward  Gamecliick,  but 
the  horse,  stricken  with  panic,  backed  away 
and  before  Broussard  could  catch  him,  he 
whirled  about  wildly  and  galloped  down  the 
mountain  road  at  breakneck  speed.  The 
sound  of  his  iron  hoofs  pounding  the  icy  road 
as  he  fled,  driven  by  fear  and  anguish,  cut  the 
silence  like  a  knife.  The  two  men  listened  to 
the  clear  metallic  sound  borne  upon  the  clear 
atmosphere  by  the  winter  wind. 

*'He's  a  good  messenger,"  said  Broussard, 
**he  is  making  straight  for  the  post." 

* '  If  he  gets  there  before  he  breaks  his  neck, ' ' 
replied  the  Colonel  coolly,  taking  out  his  cigar 
case  and  striking  a  light. 

Broussard  listened  attentively  until  the  last 
echo  had  died  away  in  the  distance. 

**He  has  got  down  all  right  and  is  now  on 
the  open  road,  and  will  get  to  the  fort  in  thirty 
minutes, ' '  he  said. 

Then  Broussard,  gathering  the  broken 
branches  of  the  fir  tree,  made  a  fire  which  not 
only  warmed  them,  but  the  blue  smoke  curl- 
ing upward  was  a  signal  for  those  who  would 
come  to  search  for  them.  He  took  the  saddle 
and  blanket  from  the  dead  horse  and  arranged 
a  comfortable  seat  for  the  Colonel,  who  de- 
clared that  a  broken  ankle  was  nothing;  but 
his  face  was  growing  pale  as  he  spoke. 

''You  remember,"  he  said  to  Broussard, 

204, 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

*Hhat  story  about  General  Moreau,  something 
more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  who  smoked 
a  cigar  while  the  surgeons  were  cutting  off  his 
leg." 

**Yes,  sir,*'  replied  Broussard.  **You  are 
not  as  badly  off  as  General  Moreau,  and  I 
think  I  can  help  you,  sir."  Broussard  pro- 
ceeded to  take  off  the  Colonel's  boot  and  stock- 
ing. He  rubbed  the  broken  ankle  mth  snow 
and  then,  with  his  handkerchief  and  a  splinter 
of  wood,  made  a  bandage  and  splints,  as  sol- 
diers are  taught  to  do. 

Then  Broussard  accepted  the  cigar  offered 
him  by  the  Colonel,  and  smoked  vigorously. 
A  lieutenant  does  not  lead  the  conversation 
with  a  Colonel,  and  so  Broussard  said  nothing 
more  and  devoted  himself  to  keeping  the  fire 
going. 

Colonel  Fortescue  bore  the  pain,  which  was 
extreme,  in  grim  silence,  but  Broussard  no- 
ticed that  he  stopped  smoking  and  threw  away 
his  cigar.  It  could  not  soothe  him  as  it  did 
General  Moreau.  Broussard  immediately 
threw  away  his  cigar,  too,  which  annoyed  the 
Colonel. 

''Why  don't  you  keep  on  smoking!"  asked 
the  Colonel  tartly. 

''Oh,  I  don't  care  about  it  particularly," 
shamelessly  answered  Broussard,  who  was  an 
inveterate  smoker. 

"When  we  got  out  of  tobacco  in  the  jungle 

205 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

I  kept  the  men  quiet  by  singing  the  old  song 
*  'Twas  Off  the  Blue  Canaries  I  Smoked  My 
Last  Cigar.'  " 

**  Music  has  always  had  a  soothing  influence 
over  me,*'  said  Colonel  Fortescue,  after  a 
moment.  **  Suppose  you  sing  that  song.  It 
may  help  this  infernal  ankle  of  mine." 

Broussard  obeyed  orders  immediately,  and 
the  old  song  was  sung  with  all  the  feeling  that 
Broussard  could  infuse  into  his  fine,  rich 
voice.  When  it  was  over,  the  Colonel  said 
sternly : 

*'Sing  another  song.  Keep  on  singing 
until  I  tell  you  to  quit. ' ' 

Broussard,  being  a  sly  dog,  did  not  sing  any 
of  the  modem  songs  that  he  was  wont  to 
troll  out  at  the  club,  or  on  the  march,  but 
chose  for  his  second  number  a  song  that  sub- 
alterns sang  to  pianos,  to  banjos  and  guitars, 
and  even  without  accompaniment,  the  favor- 
ite song  of  the  subaltern,  "A  Warrior  Bold." 
Broussard 's  clear  baritone,  sweet  and  ring- 
ing, echoed  among  the  icy  cliffs  in  the  wintry 
dusk.  At  the  end,  Colonel  Fortescue  nodded 
his  head  in  approval. 

**I  used  to  sing  that  song,"  he  said,  **when 
I  was  a  youngster,  but  I  never  had  a  fine  voice 
like  yours.    Tune  up  again." 

Broussard  tuned  up  again,  and  this  time  it 
was  a  sweet  old  sentimental  ballad.  He  went 
conscientiously  through  his  repertory  of  old- 

306 


LOVE,  THE  CONQUEROR 

fashioned  ballads,  not  smiling  in  the  least, 
Colonel  Fortescue  listening  gravely  to  these 
songs  of  love.  The  purple  twilight  was  com- 
ing on  fast  and  the  ruddy  glare  of  the  fire 
threw  a  beautiful  crimson  light  upon  the  snow- 
draped  cliffs  and  ice-clad  trees.  During  the 
intervals  between  the  songs,  the  two  men 
listened  for  the  sound  of  coming  help.  "With 
a  good  fire,  plenty  of  cigars,  and  Brous- 
sard's  cheerful  singing,  their  plight  was  not 
so  bad.  But  a  disturbing  thought  came  to 
both  of  them. 

**The  horse  running  back  riderless,  will 
alarm  my  wife  and  daughter,"  said  Colonel 
Fortescue  after  a  while. 

Broussard  made  no  reply;  he  hoped  that 
Anita  would  be  a  little  frightened  about  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  REVEILLE 

Half  an  hour  after  Colonel  Fortescue  and 
Broussard  rode  away,  Anita,  walking  into  her 
mother's  room,  said  to  Mrs.  Fortescue: 

"Mother,  let  us  ride  this  afternoon.  It  is 
so  gloriously  clear  and  cold." 

Mrs.  Fortescue  turned  from  the  desk  where 
she  was  writing  and  hesitated. 

''I  saw  your  father  go  off  on  Gamechick. 
You  can  ride  Pretty  Maid,  but  your  father 
objects  so  much  to  my  riding  Birdseye." 

"But  there  are  plenty  of  mounts  besides 
Birdseye, ' '  said  Anita. 

Mrs.  Fortescue  glanced  out  of  the  window 
at  the  winter  landscape  and  shivered  a  little. 

"It  is  very  cold,"  she  said,  "and  rather 
late ;  the  sun  will  be  gone  in  a  little  while. ' ' 

Anita  came  behind  her  mother  and  put  her 
hands  under  Mrs.  Fortescue 's  pretty  chin. 

"Dear  mother,"  she  said,  "I  want  so  much 
to  ride  this  afternoon;  I  feel  that  I  must. 
Won't  you  go  out,  if  it  is  only  for  half  an 
hour?" 

Anita's  eloquent  eyes  and  pleading  voice 
were  not  lost  upon  Mrs.  Fortescue,  who  found 
it  diflficult  always  to  resist  pleadings. 

"Well  then,"  she  said,  "call  up  the  stables 
and  tell  them  to  bring  the  horses  around  as 

208 


THE  REVEILLE 

soon  as  possible,  and  some  one  to  go  with  us, 
perhaps  McGillicuddy. '  ^ 

Ten  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Fortescue  and 
Anita,  in  their  trim  black  habits  and  smart 
little  hats  fastened  on  with  filmy  veils,  came 
out  on  the  stone  steps.  The  trooper  was  lead- 
ing the  horses  up  and  down,  and  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy,  as  escort,  put  both  ladies  into 
their  saddles  and  then  himself  mounted.  Just 
as  Mrs.  Fortescue  settled  herself  in  saddle 
and  gave  her  horse  a  light  touch  with  her  rid- 
ing-crop, a  strange  sound  w^as  borne  upon  the 
sharp  wind,  the  unmistakable  sound  of  a  run- 
away horse.  Sergeant  McGillicuddy  and 
Anita  heard  the  sound  at  the  same  moment, 
and  stood  motionless  to  listen.  It  grew  rapidly 
near  and  nearer  and  stray  passers-by  turned 
toward  the  main  entrance,  from  which  direc- 
tion came  the  wild  clatter  of  iron-shod  hoofs 
in  maddened  flight.  Suddenly  through  the 
open  main  entrance  dashed  Gamechick  with- 
out a  rider. 

A  riderless  horse  fleeing  in  terror,  is  one 
of  the  most  tragic  sights  on  earth.  The  horse 
came  pounding  at  breakneck  speed,  blinded  in 
his  fright,  as  runaway  horses  are,  but  in- 
stinctively taking  the  straight  path  across  the 
plaza.  It  was  as  if  the  frantic  hoof-beats 
awakened  the  whole  post.  Soldiers  ran  out 
and  officers  stepped  from  their  comfortable 
quarters,  while  the  oj0&cers'  club  emptied  it- 

14  309 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

self  into  the  street.  The  horse  was  recog- 
nized in  a  moment  as  Colonel  Fortescue's 
mount,  and  he  made  straight  for  the  com- 
mandant's house.  It  was  not  necessary  for 
the  trooper  to  seize  the  reins  hanging  loose 
on  Gramechick's  neck.  He  came  to  a  sudden 
halt,  his  sides  heaving  as  if  they  would  burst, 
and  he  was  dripping  wet  as  if  he  had  been  in 
a  river.  He  stood,  quivering,  his  sensitive 
ears  cocking  and  uncocking  wildly. 

Mrs.  Fortescue's  face  grew  pale,  but  she 
said  to  McGillicuddy  calmly: 

"Some  accident  has  happened  to  Colonel 
Fortescue.  Send  word  at  once  to  Major  Har- 
low and  to  my  son.** 

Major  Harlow,  next  in  command,  was  on 
the  spot  almost  as  Mrs.  Fortescue  spoke. 

"It  is  all  right,  Mrs.  Fortescue,"  said 
Major  Harlow,  cheerfully.  "The  Colonel 
probably  dismounted  and  the  horse  got  away. 
We  will  find  him  in  a  little  while." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Fortescue,  "and  Anita 
and  I  will  ride  with  you. ' ' 

Anita  looked  with  triumphant  eyes  at  her 
mother. 

"I  felt  that  we  must  be  on  horseback,"  she 
said,  "I  didn't  understand  why  a  few  minutes 
ago,  but  now  I  know  why." 

A  messenger  was  sent  for  Beverley  For- 
tescue, but  he  was  not  to  be  found.  Some 
one  in  the  group  of  officers  remembered  hav- 

310 


THE  REVEILLE 

ing  seen  him  riding  off  with  Sally  Harlow. 
Major  Harlow  did  not  attempt  to  keep  up 
with  his  daughter's  cavaliers. 

^'We'll  find  the  Colonel  all  right,"  said 
Major  Harlow,  confidently,  **the  horse  will 
show  us  the  way. ' ' 

Major  Harlow  rode  in  front  with  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy,  who  led  Gamechick,  his  head 
hanging  dowTi,  looking  the  picture  of  shame 
but  carefully  retracing  his  steps.  Behind 
them  rode  Mrs.  Fortescue  and  Anita,  and  then 
came  a  small  escort.  Gamechick,  walking 
wearily  in  advance  over  the  frozen  snow,  sud- 
denly lifted  his  head  and  gave  a  loud  whinny- 
ing of  joy,  and  at  the  same  moment  his  tired 
legs  seemed  to  gain  new  strength,  and  he 
started  off  in  a  brisk  trot. 

*'He  has  caught  the  trail,  Mrs.  Fortescue," 
called  back  Major  Harlow,  turning  his  head 
and  meeting  Mrs.  Fortescue 's  glance;  her 
face  was  pale  and  so  was  Anita's,  but  the 
eyes  of  both  were  undaunted. 

Gamechick  trotted  ahead,  sometimes  falter- 
ing and  going  around  in  a  circle,  the  escort 
waiting  patiently  until  he  once  more  found  his 
own  tracks.  They  were  still  a  mile  away  from 
the  entrance  of  the  mountain  pass  when  Anita, 
looking  up  into  the  clear  dark  blue  sky  where 
the  palpitating  stars  were  coming  out,  saw  the 
blue  smoke  curling  upward  from  the  pass. 

211 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

"Daddy  and  Mr.3roussard  have  made  a 
fire,"  she  cried. 

''Is  Mr.  Broussard  with  the  Colonel? " 
asked  Major  Harlow,  in  surprise.  Until  then, 
no  one  had  spoken  Broussard 's  name,  or 
knew  he  was  with  Colonel  Fortescue. 

* '  I  think  so, ' '  replied  Anita.  ' '  I  was  watch- 
ing my  father  as  he  rode  toward  the  main 
entrance  and  I  saw  Mr.  Broussard  join  him 
and  they  rode  off  together. '  * 

When  they  reached  the  rugged  mountain 
road,  the  horses,  with  rough-shod  feet, 
scrambled  up  like  cats.  Now  the  searching 
party  could  not  only  see  the  blue  smoke  float- 
ing above  their  heads,  but  they  perceived  a 
delicate  odor  of  burning  fir  branches.  When 
they  reached  a  spot  in  the  pass  where  a 
bridle  path  diverged  Gamechick  halted,  put- 
ting his  nose  to  the  ground  as  he  stepped 
about  and  then  throwing  back  his  head  in  dis- 
appointment. 

In  the  midst  of  the  stillness  came  the  sound 
of  a  voice ;  Broussard  was  trolling  out  a  ballad 
in  Spanish  which  he  had  learned  in  the  far-off 
jungles  of  the  Philippines.  Mrs.  Fortescue 
glanced  at  Anita.  A  brilliant  smile  and  a 
warm  blush  illuminated  the  girl's  face.  The 
mother  smiled;  she  knew  the  old,  old  story 
that  Anita's  violet  eyes  were  telling. 

Major  Harlow  raised  a  ringing  cheer  in 
which  Sergeant  McGillicuddy  and  the  officers 


THE  re\t:ille 

and  troopers  joined.  An  answering  elieer 
came  back.  It  was  unnecessary  then  for 
Gamechick  to  show  the  way  by  galloping 
ahead. 

Within  five  minutes  the  pass  was  full  of 
cavalrymen.  Mrs.  Fortescue,  down  on  her 
knees  in  the  snow,  was  examining  Colonel 
Fortescue 's  broken  ankle.  Anita,  for  once 
losing  the  quiet  reserve  that  was  hers  by 
nature,  was  sitting  by  the  Colonel,  her  arm 
around  his  neck,  her  cheek  against  his,  and 
the  tears  were  dropping  on  her  cheeks. 

*'0h,  daddy,"  she  was  whispering,  *'I  knew 
that  something  had  happened  to  you  and  that 
I  must  come  to  you,  and  that  was  why  I  begged 
and  prayed  my  mother  to  come  with  me,  and 
now  we  have  found  you,  we  have  found  you !" 

Colonel  Fortescue  drew  the  girl  close  to 
his  strong  beating  heart  for  a  brief  moment. 

*'It  is  a  very  neat  splint,"  said  Mrs.  For- 
tescue, rising  to  her  feet  and  bestowing  one 
of  her  brilliant  smiles  on  Broussard.  **Mr. 
Broussard  is  a  capital  surgeon. ' ' 

*'And  a  capital  soldier,"  said  the  Colonel, 
quite  clearly. 

A  smile  went  around,  of  which  Broussard 's 
was  the  brightest  and  the  broadest.  Every- 
body present  knew  that  the  stern  Colonel  was 
melting  a  little  toward  Broussard. 

Then  Colonel  Fortescue  insisted  upon 
mounting  Gamechick. 

213 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

''You  are  so  obstinate,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  in  Ms  ear.  ''You  are  as  bent  on 
riding  that  Ixorse  as  you  say  I  am  on  riding 
Birdseye." 

The  Colonel  nodded  and  smiled;  the  little 
differences  which  arose  between  Mrs.  Fortes- 
cue  and  himself  were  not  settled  in  the  pres- 
ence of  others. 

Colonel  Fortescue  was  helped  on  Game- 
chick's  back  and  a  trooper  dismounted  and 
gave  his  horse  to  Broussard,  the  trooper 
mounting  behind  a  comrade ;  and  without  ask- 
ing anybody's  leave,  Broussard  rode  beside 
Anita.  As  the  cavalcade  took  its  way  down 
the  road,  the  darkness  of  a  moonless  night 
descended  suddenly,  and  the  difficult  way 
out  of  the  pass  was  lighted  only  by  the 
large,  bright  stars,  that  seemed  so  strangely 
near  and  kind.  Often,  in  guiding  Anita's 
horse  along  the  rocky  road,  Broussard 's  hand 
touched  Anita's.  Sometimes  he  dismounted 
to  lead  her  horse ;  always  he  was  close  to  her, 
and  when  they  spoke  it  was  in  whispers.  The 
rest  of  the  party,  including  even  Colonel  For- 
tescue, in  sheer  good  nature  left  them  to  them- 
selves and  their  happiness. 

Soon  the  party  reached  the  broad,  white 
plain  from  which  a  great  crown  of  lights  from 
the  fort  shone  brilliantly  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening.  Half  way  across  the  plain  they  met 
Beverley  Fortescue,  riding  in  search  of  them. 

214 


THE  REVEILLE 

He  glanced  at  Anita,  who  blushed  deeply,  and 
at  'Broussard,  who  smiled  openly,  and  the  two 
young  officers  exchanged  signals,  which  meant 
that  the  Colonel  had  been  outgeneralled,  out- 
footed  and  ' '  stood  on  his  head, ' '  as  Beverley 
undutifully  exj^ressed  it  at  the  officers'  club 
an  hour  later. 

*'How  did  you  manage  the  C.  0.!"  asked 
Beverley  of  Broussard,  as  they  exchanged 
confidences  in  the  smoking-room. 

"I  sang  to  him,  like  David  did  to  Saul,  and 
got  the  evil  spirit  out  of  him.  You  ought  to 
have  seen  him,  sitting  before  the  fire,  grinding 
his  teeth  with  the  pain  of  his  ankle,  and  listen- 
ing to  *  Love's  Old  Sweet  Song.'  I  gave  him 
a  genteel  suffering  of  sentimental  songs,  I  can 
tell  you,  and  never  cracked  a  smile,  and  no 
more  did  the  old  man" — this  being  the  unof- 
ficial title  of  all  commanding  officers. 

''Do  you  think  it  would  work  on  Major 
Harlow?"  anxiously  inquired  Beverley,  "be- 
cause this  afternoon  Sally  and  I " 

Here  the  conference  was  reduced  to  whis- 
pers, as  plans  were  made  to  conquer  Major 
Harlow.  Only  daughters  are  highly  prized  by 
doting  fathers. 

A  broken  ankle  at  fifty  does  not  heal  in  a 
day,  and  until  Christmas  Eve  Colonel  For- 
tescue  was  a  prisoner  in  his  chair,  doing  his 
administrative  work ;  and  when  that  was  done 
being  cheered  and  soothed  by  the  tenderness 

216 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

in  which  he  had  been  lapped  since  the  day 
when,  as  a  young  lieutenant,  he  married  Betty 
Beverley  in  an  old  Virginia  church.  Never 
was  anything  seen  like  Anita's  devotion  to 
her  father.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  never 
out  of  sound  and  reach  of  him  and  gave  up  all 
the  merry-making  of  the  Christmas  time  to 
be  with  him.  This  prevented  Broussard  from 
seeing  Anita  very  often,  and  never  alone,  but 
they  had  entered  the  Happy  Valley  together, 
and  basked  in  the  delicate  joy  of  love  un- 
spoken, but  not  unfelt.  Anita  knew  that 
Broussard  was  only  biding  his  time,  and 
Broussard  knew  that  Anita  was  waiting,  in 
smiling  silence.  The  Colonel  wrote  Brous- 
sard a  very  handsome  note  of  thanks  and  Mrs. 
Fortescue  greeted  him  with  grateful  thanks. 
Then,  Christmas  was  coming,  the  claims:  of  the 
After-Clap  and  the  eight  McGillicuddys  be- 
came insistent.  Broussard  did  not  forget  the 
prisoner  in  the  grim  military  prison,  nor  the 
woman  so  faithful  to  the  prisoner.  Sergeant 
McGillicuddy  spent  a  small  fortune  in  such 
comforts  as  Lawrence  was  allowed  to  receive 
at  Christmas  time,  and  his  knotty,  weather- 
beaten  face  grew  positively  cheerful  over  the 
way  Lawrence  was  really  reforming. 

Broussard  knew  that  Anita  would  not  come 
to  the  Christmas  Eve  ball,  because  in  the  even- 
ing her  father  liked  her  to  read  to  him.  But 
Broussard  went  to  the  ball,  and  for  the  first 

216 


THE  RE\^ILLE 

time  found  a  Christmas  ball  dull.  Flowers 
were  scarce  at  Fort  Blizzard,  but  by  the  ex- 
penditure of  much  time  and  money  Broussard 
succeeded  in  getting  a  great  box  of  fresh  white 
roses  for  Anita  on  Christmas  Day. 

Broussard  went  to  the  early  service  at  the 
chapel  in  the  darkness  that  comes  before  the 
dawn.  The  little  chapel  shone  with  lights  and 
echoed  with  the  triumphant  Christmas  music. 
It  was  quite  full,  but  Anita  sat  alone  in  the 
C.  O.'s  pew.  She  was  all  in  black,  except  a 
single  white  rose  pinned  over  her  heart.  When 
the  service  was  over,  and  the  people  had 
streamed  out,  and  the  brilliant  lights  were  re- 
placed by  a  radiance,  faint  and  soft,  Anita 
remained  on  her  knees,  praying.  Broussard 
remained  on  his  knees,  too,  thinking  he  was 
praying,  but  in  reality  worshipping  Anita. 
Presently,  she  rose  and  passed  out  into  the 
cold,  gray  dawn.  Broussard  went  out,  too, 
meaning  to  intercept  her  and  walk  home  with 
her.  But  at  the  door  Kettle  appeared,  carry- 
ing in  his  arms  the  After-Clap,  now  nearly 
three  years  old,  and  capable  of  making  a  great 
deal  of  noise.  At  once,  he  sent  up  a  shout  for 
'"Nita!"  and  Anita,  cruelly  oblivious  of 
Broussard 's  claims,  took  the  After-Clap  by 
the  hand  and  ran  off  to  see  his  Christmas  tree 
— that  being  the  After-Clap's  day.  Kettle, 
however,  lagged  behind  to  administer  consola- 
tion to  Broussard. 

217 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

*'Doan'  you  mind,  Mr.  Broussard,"  said 
Kettle,  confidentially,  ''Miss  'Nita,  she's  jes' 
cipherin'  on  you  all  the  time.  She  makes  the. 
Kun'l  tell  her  all  'bout  them  songs  you  done 
sing  him  that  night  in  the  mountains,  an'  she 
and  Miss  Betty  laffed  fit  ter  kill  when  the 
Kun  '1  tell  'em  he  made  you  sing  like  the  devil 
to  keep  him  from  groanin'  over  his  ankle.'* 

For  six  mortal  days,  Broussard  sought  his 
chance  to  be  alone  with  Anita,  but  that  chance 
eluded  him  in  a  maddening  manner.  Either 
the  Colonel  or  the  After-Clap  was  perpetually 
in  his  way,  and  neither  Beverley  Fortescue 
nor  Kettle,  who  were  his  open  allies,  nor  Mrs. 
Fortescue,  who  was  secretly  on  his  side,  could 
help  him.  Broussard,  however,  swore  a 
mighty  oath  that  he  would  have  Anita's 
promise  before  the  new  year  began. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of  the 
year,  Broussard,  who  kept,  from  the  officers' 
club,  a  pretty  close  watch  on  the  Command- 
ing Officer's  house,  saw  Anita  come  out  in  her 
dark  furs  and  the  little  black  gown  and  hat  in 
which  she  looked  most  charming,  and  take  her 
way  to  the  chapel.  There  was  a  back  entrance, 
screened  from  the  plaza  by  a  stone  wall  and 
a  projection  of  the  chapel,  and  Broussard 
thought  there  could  not  be  a  better  place  for 
the  words  he  meant  to  speak  to  Anita.  He 
seized  his  cap  and  ran  out,  ignoring  the  jeers 
of  his  comrades,  who  had  seen  Anita  pass  and 

318 


THE  REVEILLE 

suspected  Broussard's  errand.  In  two 
minutes  he  had  entered  the  little  walled-in 
spot,  and  there,  indeed,  stood  Anita.  Within 
the  chapel  he  could  hear  voices — the  chap- 
lain's voice  directing  some  changes;  Kettle 
and  a  couple  of  men  moving  seats  and  arrang- 
ing things  at  the  chaplain's  directions.  But 
as  long  as  they  remained  in  the  chapel  they 
mattered  little  to  Broussard. 

Anita's  cheeks  hung  out  their  red  flags  of 
welcome. 

*'At  last!"  said  Broussard,  clasping  her 
hand,  '*I  have  watched  and  waited  for  this 
chance!" 

In  the  little  secluded  spot,  with  a  small, 
crescent  moon  stealing  into  the  sunset  sky 
and  the  happy  stars  shining  down  upon  them, 
Broussard  told  Anita  of  his  love.  He  knew 
not  what  words  he  spoke,  for  Love,  the  master 
magician,  speaks  a  thousand  languages,  and 
is  eloquent  in  all.  Nor  did  Anita  know  what 
reply  she  made.  After  a  deep  and  rapturous 
silence  they  returned  to  earth,  only  to  find  it 
still  Heaven. 

''I  love  you  better  than  anything  on  earth 
except  my  honor,"  said  Broussard,  holding 
Anita's  little  gloved  hand  in  his. 

'*Yes,"  answered  Anita  softly,  **next  your 
honor." 

*'And  I  have  loved  you  for  a  long  time," 
Broussard  continued, ' '  for  a  whole  year. ' '   In 

319 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

their  brief,  bright  lives,  a  whole  year  seemed 
a  long  time.  ''But  you  were  so  young — last 
year  you  were  but  a  child,  and  I  was  ashamed 
of  myself  for  what  I  said  to  you  the  night  of 
the  music  ride — it  isn't  right  to  speak  words 
of  love  to  a  girl  who  is  not  yet  a  woman.  "Will 
you  forgive  me?" 

Anita's  forgiveness  shone  in  her  eyes  and 
smiled  upon  her  scarlet  mouth  when  Brous- 
sard  laid  his  lips  on  hers. 

Suddenly,  a  wild  shriek  resounded.  The 
After-Clap,  who  had  been  in  hiding  behind 
Anita,  and  was  unseen  by  Broussard,  and  for- 
gotten by  Anita,  emerged  and  set  up  a  violent 
protest.  Being  now  a  sturdy  three-year-old, 
he  was  well  able  to  express  himself. 

''You  go  'way!"  screamed  the  After-Clap, 
raising  a  copper-toed  foot,  and  kicking  Brous- 
sard's  shins. 

"You  let  my  'Nita  'lone,  you  bad  man!" 

The  After-Clap 's  shrieks  brought  the  chap- 
Iain  and  Kettle  and  a  couple  of  soldiers  quick- 
ly out  of  the  chapel.  Meanwhile,  with  what 
Broussard  thought  superhuman  and  intelli- 
gent malice,  the  After-Clap  dragged  the  iron 
gate  open  that  led  to  the  plaza  and  rushed 
straight  into  the  arms  of  Colonel  Fortescue, 
returning  from  his  first  walk,  aided  by  a  stick 
in  one  hand  and  Mrs.  Fortescue 's  arm  on  the 
other  side. 

' '  Daddy !  Daddy !  You  come  here  and  beat 

920 


THE  REVEILLE 

Mr.  Broussard.    He  kissed  'Nita !    He  kissed 
'Nita ! ' '  shrieked  the  After-Clap. 

Broussard  and  Anita,  standing  in  the  circle 
of  eyes,  were  much  embarrassed ;  Kettle,  grab- 
bing the  After-Clap,  shook  him  well,  saying : 

*'Heish  yo'  mouth!  you  didn't  see  no  sich  a 
thing!" 

This  only  increased  the  After-Clap's  indig- 
nation, and  he  bawled  louder  than  ever: 

* '  I  see  Mr,  Broussard  kiss  'Nita !  I  see  him 
kiss  my  'Nita." 

**Yes,  I  kissed  Anita,"  responded  Brous- 
sard, recovering  his  native  impudence,  ^'but 
she  is  my  Anita  and  not  your  Anita  any 
longer. ' ' 

This  produced  another  attack  on  Brous- 
sard's  shins  by  the  After-Clap. 

**I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Fortescue  demurely, 
*' Kettle  had  better  take  the  After-Clap 
home. ' ' 

**So  do  I,"  said  Broussard,  *'he  has  been 
very  much  in  my  way  ever  since  he  began 
yelling. ' ' 

The  Colonel  and  the  chaplain  began  to  make 
conversation,  as  Kettle  carried  the  After-Clap 
off,  still  proclaiming  he  had  seen  Broussard 
kiss  Anita.  The  two  soldiers  grinned  silently 
at  each  other.  The  whole  party  started  off  to 
the  C.  0.  's  house,  Mrs.  Fortescue  walking  be- 
tween the  Colonel  and  the  chaplain,  while 
Broussard  and  Anita  brought  up  the  rear. 

221 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Colonel  For- 
tescue  went  straight  to  liis  office.  Mrs.  For- 
tescue  and  the  chaplain  made  little  jokes  on 
the  lovers,  but  the  Colonel  had  looked  as 
solemn  as  the  grave.  The  hour  had  come 
when  his  little  Anita  was  no  longer  his. 

''Come,"  said  Broussard  to  Anita,  *'let  us 
face  the  battery  now. ' ' 

Hand  in  hand  they  entered  Colonel  For- 
tescue's  office.  The  Colonel  behaved  better 
than  anybody  expected.  Wlien  he  had  given 
his  formal  consent,  Anita  slipped  behind  his 
chair  and  said  to  him  softly : 

' '  Daddy,  I  made  up  my  mind  when  I  was  a 
little  girl,  a  long  time  ago,  that  I  would  never 
marry  any  man  that  was  not  as  good  as  you, 
my  darling  daddy!" 

Fond  fathers  are  generally  won  by  these 
tender  pleas.  Broussard  turned  his  head 
away  as  the  Colonel  drew  his  daughter  to 
him ;  the  passion  of  father-love  was  too  sacred 
even  for  the  eyes  of  a  lover.  On  the  way  out 
they  met  Sergeant  McGillicuddy,  who  tried  to 
look  unconscious. 

''Congratulate  me!"  cried  Broussard. 

"I  do,  sir,"  replied  the  Sergeant,  solemnly, 
"and  if  I  may  make  bold  to  say  it,  the  Colonel 
will  make  a  f ather-in-law-and-a-half ,  sir. ' ' 

This  was  enigmatic,  but  Broussard  was  too 
happy  then  to  study  enigmas. 

That  night,  when  the  Colonel,  limping  a 


THE  REVEILLE 

little,  entered  the  ballroom  he  leaned  upon 
Beverley's  strong  young  arm,  while  on  the 
other  side  was  Mrs.  Fortescue,  always 
particularly  radiant  in  evening  dress.  Brous- 
sard  and  Anita  walked  behind  them.  The 
news,  as  rashly  announced  by  the  After-Clap, 
that  Mr.  Broussard  had  kissed  Anita,  had 
spread  like  wildfire  through  the  post.  Every- 
body knew  it,  and  everybody  smiled  upon 
Broussard  and  Anita;  even  second  lieuten- 
ants who  envied  Broussard 's  luck;  good 
wishes  and  kind  congratulations  were  show- 
ered upon  them. 

It  was  a  very  gay  ball;  as  Colonel  For- 
tescue held,  the  sharp  cold,  the  radiant  arc 
lights,  always  going,  the  wall  of  ice  by  which 
the  fort  was  surrounded,  gave  an  edge  to  joy 
as  well  as  to  pain.  To  mark  this  last  ball  of 
the  year  the  young  officers  introduced  some 
of  the  prankish  features  of  their  happy  cadet 
days. 

At  five  minutes  to  midnight,  when  the  great 
floor  was  a  whirl  of  dainty  young  girls,  their 
heads  crowned  with  roses  or  with  flashing 
ornaments  that  matched  their  sparkling  eyes, 
and  with  dashing  young  officers,  glittering  in 
gold  and  blue,  the  band,  with  Neroda  leading, 
stopped  suddenly.  A  handsome  young  bugler 
appeared  and  in  the  midst  of  the  tense  silence 
the  wonderful  melody  of  **Taps,"  the  last 
farewell,   was  played   for  the   dying  year. 

223 


BETTY  AT  FORT  BLIZZARD 

Then  Anita,  as  the  commanding  officer's 
daughter,  had  the  honor  of  turning  off  the 
lights.  To-night  she  looked  her  sweetest, 
wearing  a  little  white  dancing  gown  that 
showed  her  satin-slippered  feet.  With  Brous- 
sard  escorting  her,  Anita  walked  the  length 
of  the  long  ballroom  to  the  point  where,  with 
one  touch  of  the  hand  every  light  went  out  in 
an  instant  of  ti*me,  and  the  ballroom  was 
plunged  into  the  blackness  of  darkness  and 
the  stillness  of  silence. 

The  band  then  played  softly  the  delicious 
waltz  "Auf  Wiedersehen,"  with  its  sweet 
promise  of  eternal  meeting. 

On  the  stroke  of  twelve  came  a  great  roar 
and  reverberance  from  the  outside  and  a 
dazzling  flash  of  light  blazed  in  at  the  window 
from  a  feu  de  joie  on  the  plaza.  At  the  same 
moment,  the  young  bugler  played  the  splendid 
fanfare  that  welcomes  the  dawn,  the  reveille. 
Broussard  and  Anita,  looking  into  each 
others'  smiling  eyes,  began  the  new  year  of 
their  perfect  happiness  with  the  joyous  echo 
of  the  silver  trumpet  proclaiming  the  coming 
of  the  sunrise. 


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